Harriet Potter
by tkepner
Summary: Death Eaters expect a boy so Dumbledore hid Harry, temporarily, as a baby girl. Vernon makes it stick and pimps her out. Then her letter comes. Who IS this Harriet girl? What will Snape do? The people, scenes, and places are J.K. Rowling's, I own nothing. This is a dark story, with references to non-consensual & consensual sex. Not graphic. Various pairings. No M/slash
1. First Year - Potions Lesson

**_Harriet Potter_**

_Death Eaters expect a boy so Dumbledore hid Harry, temporarily, as a baby girl. Vernon makes it stick and pimps her out. Then her letter comes. Uh oh! Where's Harry? Who IS this Harriet girl? What will Snape do? The people, scenes, and places are J.K. Rowling's, I own nothing. This is a dark story, with references to non-consensual &amp; consensual sex. Not graphic. Various pairings._

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_Some short scenes from "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" by J.K. Rowling, are excerpted in this story. They are used here with her and her publisher's kind forbearance. The characters, scenes, and locations belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing of the story except perhaps its deviations from J.K. Rowling's plot._

**NOTE:_ This is a dark story, with references to non-consensual and consensual sex. No graphic depictions of sexual encounters are included. Be Forewarned._**

**Second Note:**_ To those who don't think such things are plausible (i.e., that such activities would cause irreparable harm to the girl), primitive societies routinely view 6 and 8-year-old-girls as "ready" for sex — see the Trobrianders, ISIS, or the Christian Old Testament). As for modern-age kids age 11 &amp; 12 being interested in sex — as I started to post this the news had a story about a 13/12 year-old couple in Britain having a baby, where the girl became pregnant at eleven. They had apparently started having relations while the girl was ten. For other examples, do a Google or Bing search for "youngest parents"._

**Third Note:**_ Regarding size issues, a newborn's head is much larger than anything a male could have, so if a twelve-year-old can successfully birth a baby – well size is not an issue, is it? And remember - _it's a magical world!_ So, magic adapts things._

**Fourth Note:**_ A frequent issue when dealing with incest survivors, based on my readings in psychology, is that they find the experience pleasurable at least some of the time, as sex is supposed to be. This makes them feel ashamed and that they are somehow "broken" for liking it, especially when told to hide their situation from everyone because of dire consequences for them or their family. Without proper counseling, those survivors tend to be aggressive in initiating sexual encounters with other individuals; they simply do not regard such activities as being "wrong," especially if they derive pleasure from doing it. Yes, the statements sound contradictory, but the human mind occasionally deals with trauma by developing coping mechanisms that at times can reinforce the trauma._

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_Note: 7/1/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update _

**1\. First Year - Potions Lesson**

At the start-of-term Hogwarts' banquet, Harriet had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked her. By the end of the first Potions lesson, she knew she'd been wrong. Snape didn't just dislike Harriet — he hated her. That was quite clear after he sneered at her during roll call — as if _she_ knew what fame was — then asking her questions that did not have answers in the first-year book, and finally blaming Harriet for Neville's failed potion. However, as she told herself, she knew exactly how to fix this problem, only this time it would be for her benefit and not Dudley's. All it would take was. . . Mum's Confidence.

Harriet, or Harri as she asked her friends to call her, whispered to Hermione to leave as Harri cleared their table. She would catch up with her, and Ron and Neville if they got out of the hospital in time, later at the Herbology Entrance to go to Hagrid's hut at three. Otherwise, she would meet Hermione in either the Library or the Common Room.

She placed her books and materials in her shoulder bag and carefully put everything else, including her cauldron and its utensils, back where they belonged on the classroom shelves. She then thoroughly cleaned the potions table itself. She deliberately worked slowly until she was the last student in the room. Professor Snape was staring at her and about to say something undoubtedly rude, when she looked up at him, "May I speak with you in private, sir?"

Snape stared at her a moment longer, then swept his arm, and wand, towards the door, making it slam closed.

Leaving her shoulder bag at the potion's table, Harriet walked to her professor, weaving between the tables and around the stools, until she was just a step away. She looked up at him. "And no one can see or hear our conversation?" she prompted.

He sneered, but waved his wand and the room became slightly quieter, noises she hadn't noticed before were now silent. Things outside the windows became blurry and ill defined.

"Now what do you want, Pot-ter," Professor sneered, making it two distinct syllables. Only he could make her name sound like an insult, not even Aunt 'Tunia had managed that.

"I know you dislike me, sir," she started.

"How. . . discerning. . . of you," he interrupted, in a low penetrating voice, making it sound as if only an idiot would have failed to notice.

She started to continue when he interrupted her again.

"How long, Pot-ter, do you intend to continue this . . . _charade_?" He made a dismissive motion with his left hand.

She frowned, puzzled. "Charade?" He had thrown her off track.

"Yes, this, this," he waved his left hand again, "this pretense that you are a girl when we both know you are not. You were born a boy and we both know it. You cannot keep up the spell or glamour forever."

That again, but that didn't put her as far off track as she dreaded. She felt the urge to laugh aloud. If only she _could_ turn herself into a boy. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, making sure that her voice reflected that she was, really and truly, regretful, "but I am a girl." She smiled wryly, "I can prove it." She reached up, popped free the top button of her robe, letting it sag open. Then she pulled off her tie, dropped it to the floor, and quickly flipped open the few buttons on her blouse. She dropped her arms to her sides and shook her shoulders to dislodge her robe. As her robe fell to the floor, she pulled her blouse open and threw her shoulders back, allowing her blouse to follow her robe to the floor. Her robe pooled around her feet with her abbreviated blouse behind her. She stood in front of him legs slightly apart, holding her arms out from her sides, her body language clearly declaring, _Look! See!_

Professor Snape stared at the naked girl before him. Harri knew, from the gossips in her dorm, that he had had girls infatuated with him, she knew he had had girls wanting improved grades, she knew he had even had girls hoping to please their families by dating him, all attempt a seduction as she was. But never did the rumours mention a first-year eleven-year-old girl so brazenly stripping before him. She was confident she would succeed where all the others had failed. After all, she had much more practice than those other girls did.

She watched, smiling, as almost reflexively he muttered detection spells. She was kind of surprised at this reaction, what sort of background did he have that the first thing he did when surprised was cast detection spells? It didn't matter in the end, though. They all came up null, she knew, as he failed to see through the non-existent glamour or spell he suspected her of using to hide her true, male form. She was definitely _not_ a boy cross-dressing, under a glamour, or subject to any other external spell that would make people think Harriet was a girl when she wasn't. And her pose displayed that her confidence in that.

Harriet took a quick step forward, as soon as he stopped casting spells, before he had time to react further. She looked up into his face, "If you promise to treat me just like any other student, nothing special. . ." she pulled open the waist of his robe, "I promise to be nice to you." She pulled at his trousers.

Snape, startled at her close approach and actions, took a quick step back, but his hip hit the edge of his desk. He struggled to regain his lost balance. Harriet, pulling on his trousers was certainly a factor in his failing to remain upright and falling backwards onto the floor. Harri, belatedly letting go, fell with him, landing on her hands and knees between his legs.

She grinned as she looked up at the expression on his face. His composure lost, Snape stared at her, clearly astonished, even frightened a little. "Well," she said, "I agree the floor is more comfortable than standing, but you could have warned me, you know." She renewed her attack on his trousers, saying, "we can use a bed later, if you want." She was about to yank them lower when the command came.

"STOP!" he thundered.

She froze. Damn. Usually she was much further along before they recovered enough to start to resist. Usually it was a _What are you doing?_ that she heard as she pulled their trousers and underwear down. She would ignore that — attempting an explanation would ruin her opportunity by giving them time to think. Then came, _Wait! Stop!_ Those were said with more of a panic tone as she grabbed what she had exposed and began to play. That definitely interfered with their thinking. It was quite a joke to her because at that point it was obvious they were getting interested in her _not_ stopping. Before they could get serious, though, and actually try to push her away, she would have already straddled them and any further protests were strictly an afterthought and changed to _Oh my god_, or words to similar effect. All thinking after that was delegated to their "little head" as Aunt 'Tunia called it.

"Stand up. Get dressed," came the orders in a tone that brooked no argument. Uncle Vernon frequently used that tone as well, so her reaction was instant.

She was dressed and standing before he had time to get to his feet. She stared at the floor. Now what? She had never been in this situation before. She missed the professor's puzzled expression fading into its customary sneer.

"What," he said in an almost conversational tone, "was that about?"

She looked up into his eyes, her face an emotionless blank, body language as submissive and non-challenging as possible. Mum's Confidence had fled the field, leaving it to Dad's Consequences. "You don't like me, you'll remove points from me and my House, and you'll unfairly knock down my grades," she said softly. "I was just trying to. . . fix that. To give you a reason to like me, to be fair."

He stared into her eyes. "Have you done that before? Would you . . . share it?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

Unbidden, a stream of photo-like images flashed through her mind of different situations with men before stopping on the last day of school before this summer, before the final grades came out.

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He had locked the classroom door and the four of them were in the corner of the room hidden from the door's window. The lights were off, to make the room appear empty, but the afternoon sun coming in the windows was more than sufficient to illuminate the second floor classroom.

She was looking over her shoulder. Her hands were on the back of the chair, clutching the hem of her dress so that it stayed over her waist. Her knees and ankles were pressing against the wooden spokes of the chair's arms. She could see her teacher's belly and hip as he pressed against her from behind. Behind and to his left, still out of sight of the door, were Dudley and her last year's teacher, their pants discarded on the floor. They were anticipating their next turn. For the teachers, this would be the last time until next fall, and they wanted the most out of it. And, Dudley? Well, he was just being Dudley. He had decided to walk her home, so, he figured, why not? At least he never hit her, anymore. She had been in the chair for the better part of half an hour and her knees hurt.

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Then it was gone. Buried as it was supposed to be, buried by Confidence with all the rest. Out of sight, so to speak, out of mind. Let someone else remember it. She had never had that happen before when she was behind dad's Consequences.

Professor Snape was still staring at her eyes, but he was blinking rapidly. He looked like he had gotten paler than his normal pasty white, if that was possible.

"Do. Not. Move." He spun and walked into the supply room for the class.

What had happened? She was confused now. Why had she remembered that incident? And so vividly. She didn't want to remember such things. God, how she wished she _was_ a boy.

The professor came striding back into the classroom, his robe billowing around him like it was in a breeze. How _did_ he do that? He had several bottles in his left hand.

He spoke softly, as if he expected her to dash off at any moment, "Harry. . . Harriet," he amended, "I'm going to cast a spell. I'd like your permission. It won't hurt. It will help me and the other professors greatly if you do this."

She looked up at him suspiciously.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, as if giving a huge concession, "If you do this, I promise to treat you just as I do the other students."

_GOOOAAAAL!_ as they said in football. She was doing a mental happy dance. She continued looking at him suspiciously. "Like a Slytherin," she stated, mom's Confidence helping her push.

He pressed his lips together for a moment, then reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose with his right hand, his wand held loosely against the side of his head. "Yes. Yes. Like a. . . Slytherin." He looked like he had just eaten something very sour.

"Okay," she said, slowly, suppressing her smile. She had gotten what she wanted, and it hadn't even required her doing anything. It took all her control not to start dancing around the room. She could hardly wait to tell mum and dad. Success at no cost!

"Close your eyes."

She did. She heard him muttering something, and then the slight pressure of the tip of a wand pressed against her temple.

"Think about the last time you did something like what you just did. How did the day start, when did this happen. . . ." His voice trailed off, getting softer and softer until she couldn't hear it

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It was early morning, the last day of August, Saturday. Tomorrow she would be going to Hogwarts. But today, today started with Uncle Vernon climbing into her bed, followed a bit later by Dudley.

"Get dressed, Whore." Whore was his pet name for her. He used it all the time in private. In public, she was simply _Girl_ or _You_. "We're going to the hotel for the day. Don't shower here, you can waste the hotel's hot water," the overweight man ordered as he finally left her bed and her room. "Leave her alone, Dudley, I don't want to be late," he called from down the short hall. Dudley, grousing, complied. He stopped at the door and looked back at her sprawled on her bed. "Um, Harriet, I hope you have a good time at the new school. And, you know, you get to do what you want." Instead of what my dad forces you to do was the implied wish, she understood. He was nice sometimes, but he was still a selfish, overweight, bullying, conflicted boy. And her cousin.

Trying to dress slowly is difficult when all you wear is a slipover almost see-through summer dress that came to halfway between her knees and hips, and thin, tired sandals.

Uncle Vernon, or, TFS, The Fat Slob, made her wait by the door while he took his sweet time getting ready. Half an hour later, after the family, less her, had finished a late breakfast, the two of them left.

The hotel was nice enough, neither a luxury hotel nor a dive. Its biggest advantage was that it was within walking distance of Grunnings Drills' headquarters. They kept a permanent suite on lease and used it to put up clients and out of city or country visitors. Today the suite was Harriet's. Well, not Harriet's as such, more like Harriet was available there. TFS would bring her here once a month as a treat to clients, vendors, and his associates. It was why he was Vice President of Sales and second only to the President in salary. There was talk of making him company President in December for his part in growing the company so much over the last few years. Expenses were down and profits were up, based on his efforts. He got other perks, as well, from both clients and vendors, so he probably actually earned in trade as much as he made in salary. Although it was Harriet who did the physical work.

She had been here every day for the last week. TFS was losing her until next summer, so he had been throwing one last fling for his best customers and vendors from all over the world. Not all of them were men.

TFS let her shower at regular intervals as some of Grunnings Drills' management personnel visited in the morning (_Have to go in for work Saturday, sorry honey, it's why I get the big bucks_, was their excuse to their girlfriends and wives). Then in the afternoon came the vendors (_Smoozing with the clients dear, a round or two of golf, take all afternoon, sorry dear_ was their excuse). This night, though, was reserved for his big clients in London. Lunch and dinner were simple butter sandwiches for Harriet, one each time; TFS refused to order her anything through Room Service — _you cost me enough as it is_, he had said.

She did get some sleep that night, but not as much as she wanted. On the other hand, she probably wouldn't have been able to sleep for being anxious about going to Hogwarts the next morning anyway, so, she figured, it was probably a wash. At least, when she did sleep, it was a deep sleep with no nightmares. That always made for a good night.

She took a long soaking bath the next morning as she waited for Uncle Vernon to show up. She could never take baths at home. He had gone home just after eight last night, to keep up appearances to the neighbors as a dutiful husband who occasionally worked late and weekends. Not that Petunia cared when or how long he worked, just as long as the money kept rolling in.

The last three clients had left early that morning, before sunrise. They had to be home to go to Church with their families. How they explained being out all Saturday night she didn't understand.

Hypocritical, lying bastards, every one of them, even the nice ones who would talk with her as a person instead of treating her as a sex doll, albeit a very compliant, living, breathing, doll. Their wives and girlfriends must be trusting idiots. Whatever. It gave her a couple of hours of additional rest, and time for a long soak in the tub.

TFS finally showed up at ten. "Lazy slut, get out of that tub. Petunia and Dudley are waiting in the car. Come over here," he dragged her to the unmade bed and made her bend over. "There's just enough time for a quickie, Whore." After, she slipped her green dress on and grabbed her shoulder bag. On the way to the station, Dudley pushed her face into his lap and tossed a blanket over her to hide what she was doing. Vernon and Petunia laughed at their son "getting some" while in reality he let her catch a thirty-minute nap. He wasn't _that_ bad a boy.

The memory ended as she got out of the car and Vernon placed her trunk and Hedwig's cage on a King's Cross trolley and, unexpectedly, started wheeling it into the train station.

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She stood there, stunned. It had been like doing it all over again only compressed into minutes instead of an entire day. Her stomach clenched in upset. She was taking short, quick breaths, trying to keep what remained of her breakfast. That was supposed to be buried under mum's Confidence so that she would never have to remember it. For a moment she thought she might just collapse to the floor, it would be easier than standing.

"Here," a bottle appeared in front of her, "drink this." She took the bottle from Professor Snape's hand and downed it without pause. If it had a taste, she didn't notice. "Sit."

She dropped straight to the floor, whether she sat or collapsed would be difficult to say. She didn't notice his exasperated expression at the thought that using a chair simply did not occur to her.

"Stay. I shall return in a moment."

She heard the wizard stalk off to the storeroom again. After a few minutes, she started to shake off the haze. What had just happened? That had been even more vivid than the previous memory, more vivid, even, than the nightmares that plagued her. She shuddered. Hopefully, that would never happen again. Odd though, now that she thought about it, she couldn't really remember what she had just remembered, just that she had remembered something extremely unpleasant. Was it mom's Confidence belatedly acting?

As she puzzled on this, she heard a retching sound from the storeroom. Was the Professor sick? Should she go check? But he had ordered her to stay put, and she knew what happened if she disobeyed that kind of an order. Uncle Vernon and Aunt 'Tunia had beaten that one into her. They were careful to leave no marks, though, didn't want any of the clients to wonder how a little girl got scars like that! No, the wounds they left were inside, where no one could see them. And the scars she did have? Well they blamed those old scars, earned before she was big enough to be valuable, on the car accident — those liars! — that they said had killed her parents.

Professor Snape returned from the storeroom, looking shaken and unsteady.

"Are you all right, sir?" What would happen if he collapsed in here with her? The door was sealed, the windows as well, and nobody outside could hear her yelling. Maybe asking for privacy wasn't such a good idea. Taking a chance on someone walking in might have been more prudent.

He looked at her, then gave himself a shake and straightened. "I am fine, child." Child? She had never heard of him calling any student a child. Just what was going on here?

He walked over to the classroom door, silently opened it, and looked into the hall. The next class would be beginning, soon. "You," he called. There was a frightened scream from the student he had surprised. "Go fetch Professor McGonagall, she should be in her office. Tell her to come immediately. If she isn't there, tap the gargoyle doorknocker and give it the message, say it is an emergency." Then he said, apparently to the students who were waiting to enter the classroom, "Class is delayed, wait out here until I call for you." At the affirmatives from the students, he nodded and closed the door.

He turned and walked back to Harriet, staring down at her. She stared back up, confused.

"Where are the rest of your clothes?"

She blinked at the non-sequitur. "What?"

Patiently, as if dealing with a toddler, he explained, "Your robe, where are your underclothes? You have the tie and a . . . ," he frowned, "almost a blouse, but what of the rest? Where is your skirt? Or trousers? Or underwear?"

Patiently, as if dealing with a toddler, she explained, "The required list said to get: Three sets of plain work robes (black), one plain pointed hat (black) for day wear, one pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar), and one winter cloak (black, silver fastenings). It said nothing about what underclothes were required, and I was quite put out to discover I had to cut up my white dress to make a blouse to wear! Honestly," she said, disgusted. After a pause she added, "Hermione helped me with that. She brought a sewing kit to school," she added.

Professor Snape closed his eyes for several seconds. Harriet was almost positive she saw his lips move slightly as if he were counting.

She could see he was trying not to sneer, or be sarcastic, as he had been throughout the lesson today, and she wondered why he had so suddenly changed. Based on what all the other students had told her she had not expected him abruptly to be nice to her. For goodness sake, she had heard he had even docked a girl points for _breathing_!

"What about your own underwear? Couldn't you have brought blouses and underwear from home?" He was not quite gritting his teeth as he said this, and his intonation indicated he wanted to be more. . . emphatic. . . but was restraining himself.

"Don't have any," she said with a sniff, "I've only had two dresses, a green one and a white one since Christmas. They cost two pounds each at the used clothes store. Aunt 'Tunia was quite put out to spend that much. Says I keep growing out of whatever she buys, and says she spends far too much money getting me new clothes every year."

He stared at her, speechless. Finally, he said, "Didn't the Groundskeeper take you to a clothing store in Diagon Alley?"

She had to giggle at that. "_Professor_, can you picture _Hagrid_ taking me to a woman's dress shop and suggesting I buy _knickers_?" Besides, she was so used to the situation that when she remembered she wanted to buy clothes with her newfound wealth, she was at home and couldn't, and when she was out of the house on her own, she had far more important things to do than that.

The potions professor stared at her again, then pinched the bridge of his nose with his left thumb and forefinger and closed his eyes. He stood like that for a few moments. "Yes. Of course. It would never occur to that great oaf that a little girl might need such things. And if it did he would be too embarrassed to actually do it." He sighed. "And the school store does not carry such items."

It was a good thing that he had his eyes closed or he would have seen the blush that crept over Harriet's face at thought of embarrassing Hagrid. She had done that in the Vault. He hadn't looked her in the eyes the rest of the day. And underwear had been the least of his thoughts, and hers. She supposed she was lucky she hadn't scared him into running out on her immediately after.

"And your . . . friend, Hermione . . . didn't loan you anything?"

Harriet looked out the far windows, "She doesn't know. She only helped me with the blouse when she saw me using my teeth to cut up my sundress. I told her it was old and I had decided to recycle it into another blouse. I was wearing my other dress, so she never noticed."

The door to the Potion's Classroom flew open with a bang as Professor McGonagall rushed in. "What's this about an emergency, Professor Snape?" She glanced at Harriet sitting on the floor. "Has something happened with Harry?"

"Yes," he sneered at her, "You might say something has happened." He studied her a moment. "Come, you need to see this." He turned and started for the storeroom. "I looked and gathered this with Harriet's full permission, so you have nothing to complain about on that issue. But when you see it, you _will_ have something to complain about. I warn you though, it is very unpleasant." Professor McGonagall stared at Harriet, trying to see if there was anything physically wrong as she followed Professor Snape. He looked back at Harriet while ushering the other professor into the storeroom. "Please wait here." Faintly, she heard him say "Professor McGonagall, drink this first. . . ."

Harriet sighed. She hoped Hermione would not be too upset at her not showing up. And Hagrid would probably be disappointed. She hated disappointing the simple giant. Heck, _she_ was disappointed; she had been looking forward to sitting down in his company all day. She _liked_ him.

Her time with him had been fun; she had to say it was probably the best day of her life. She smiled, thinking back to when she had first seen him.

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**Author's Note:**_ I usually do not respond directly to reviews so I am taking the opportunity here to give a blanket response: For those of you who sent me a review, thank you for doing so. I appreciate your time and effort, especially those who offered constructive suggestions and criticisms on the story._

_To everyone else, please let me know what you think of the story, and where it's going. If anyone has any suggestions for pranks or things you think need more detailed explanations, do not be afraid to send them in. If you notice any grammar or spelling errors, PLEASE tell me. Again, to those who sent reviews, a very big Thank You!_


	2. Cabin in the Sea

_Note: 2/16/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update. _

**2\. Cabin in the Sea**

"Who's there?" Uncle Vernon shouted. "I warn you — I'm armed!" He was holding a rifle in his hands.

There was a pause. Then —

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway, his face almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard. Despite that Harriet could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey. . . ."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.

Harriet looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

Harriet wasn't sure if she should be offended that she looked like her dad or happy that her eyes looked like her mom's. Her hair, though, was tied back in a ponytail.

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise as he demanded the giant leave, then made a funnier noise, like a mouse being trodden on, when his weapon was casually twisted into a pretzel and tossed away.

"Anyway — Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry_ written on it in green icing. Nobody had ever given her a cake, not even a slice.

Harriet looked up at the giant. Instead of saying thank you, as she intended, what came out was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harriet's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. After somehow getting a roaring fire going, the giant sat back down on the sofa. He began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harriet, who was so hungry she had never tasted anything so wonderful, but she still couldn't take her eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, she said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts — yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Um — no?" said Harriet.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harriet added quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harriet.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harriet was numb, in shock, maybe, over the events last night, as she traveled with Hagrid the next day. Her parents were wizards. She was a wizard, er, witch. Her parents had died to save her life. She, herself, was famous and known to virtually every wizard and witch in the world, as Hagrid had explained several times last night and this morning. And magic. She was going to a magic school. To learn magic. Magic was real, and she could do magic. Everything was whirling around and around in her head so fast she thought her head was going to explode.

It was while they were in the London Underground that Hagrid finally asked the question that clearly had been wearing at him that morning. He apparently hadn't noticed in the cabin's bad light last night.

"Harry, why're yeh wearin' a dress?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Harriet looked up at the giant, "Um, 'cause I'm a girl?" She reached back and patted her ponytail, noticing that it had become lopsided somewhere along their journey.

"Don't be daft! Yer a boy, Lily and James tol' me so themselves! 'Course the 'eadmaster did mention that he spelled yeh when we l'ft yeh at the Dursleys. . . ." his voice trailed off. "But that shoulda worn off years ago, 'e said." Hagrid looked down at the bemused girl. "Well," he said straightening, "maybe it's fer ta best. Don't you worry, none, though, the 'eadmaster, he'll straighten it all out, I'm sure." Harriet sat, more confused than ever. She knew what boys and men looked like; she knew what girls and women looked like. She was a girl, as had been demonstrated to her many, many times over the years. There was absolutely no way she could be a boy. She did _not_ have the proper equipment, or attitude! She started to redo her ponytail, but the old rubber band snapped. She sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair, combing it out so it didn't look too ratty.

But, if she had been a boy, what would things have been like? Lost in daydreams and speculation, she followed in the big man's wake to their destination.

"This is it," said Hagrid, finally coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, dirty-looking pub. People hurrying by didn't notice it. Their eyes slid from the big book store on one side to the record store on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harriet had the strangest feeling that only she and Hagrid could see it.

For a famous place, it was very dark and grubby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of something, and one was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harriet's shoulder and making Harriet's knees buckle.

Tom glanced curiously at the small witch beside Hagrid, the height contrast was quite comical. The top of her head barely reached the giant's waist. She had the loveliest green eyes he had ever seen, though, partially hidden behind round-eye black-frame plastic glasses. The nosepiece was broken and she had used white tape to fix it.

She had long black hair that fell partway down her back and a thick fringe that reached her narrow eyebrows. She was thin, bordering on boney, as if she never got enough to eat, and was wearing a green sundress that perfectly offset her eyes. The sundress was mid-thigh in length with short-sleeves and a collar, a buttoned front, and a fabric belt. She was cute, so cute that he knew that when she grew up she would be drop-dead gorgeous and would need a quaffle-bat to beat away the wizards, and probably a few of the witches as well. She looked far too young to be a student, but she _was_ with Hagrid. All he said was, "New student, eh?" to Hagrid. Then he addressed her directly, "You listen to him, now, he knows Hogwarts better than anyone except the Weasley twins. If you do what he says you won't go wrong!"

"Don't be stuffing 'Arry's head with nonsense, now," said the giant, you could tell he was blushing even through his beard.

"Harry?" Tom looked down at the girl. The wizard was due this year for sure, but this was a witch standing here, not a wizard.

"Harriet," corrected the girl.

"Ah. Well, welcome to the Leaky Cauldron and the Wizarding World, then, lass." Tom nodded to her, and turned away as another customer came to the bar. Harriet followed Hagrid out the back of the pub.

She watched, entranced, as the bricks in the wall twisted and turned.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

"Blow me!" whispered Harriet.

It was like wandering into a Disney fantasy movie, or perhaps a Dickens movie set but with wizards and witches. The colours, sounds, smells, and people were like nothing she had ever seen. Abruptly, the giant man announced, "Gringotts" and strode off down the street, Harriet again following in his wake, like a rowboat pulled after a big ship. If she hadn't been behind the big man, she probably would have walked into any number of people and things on the crooked street as she looked around. They stopped in front of a big white building with marble columns in front. A strange looking creature with a short beard and long fingers and feet stood guard by the doors.

"That's a Goblin, Harry."

The Goblin bowed them inside. Ever courteous, as TFS had beaten into her, she bowed back, not noticing the faint widening of his eyes at her actions. Shortly Hagrid led her through an enormous room with many wizards and witches walking around, as well as many more Goblins. Hagrid walked up to a Goblin at an otherwise unoccupied counter. "Morning," said Hagrid. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. 'Arry Potter's vault."

Harriet was becoming annoyed, and slightly offended, at the casual assumption that she was a boy. While she wouldn't have objected to that state of affairs, it should be painfully obvious to anyone looking at her that she was a _girl_.

"You have his key, sir?" The Goblin had ignored Harriet's appearance and taken Hagrid at his word! Was the Wizarding World mad?

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, searching through his many pockets. Harriet wondered what the Goblin would say to the dormice as the giant began emptying his pockets on the counter. The Goblin was clearly annoyed at the trash appearing on his orderly workspace. "Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The Goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen," he added handing the rolled parchment to the goblin.

The Goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook, another Goblin of course, led them to a door at the back of the large room.

"Hagrid," Harriet asked, "what's a You-Know-What?"

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Harriet sighed.

To Harriet's surprise, the door opened to a rock passage and not a normal hallway as she had expected. Griphook led then to what looked like an oversized mining cart with seats and a steering rod. Hagrid had difficulty squeezing himself in place, but Griphook and Harriet easily fit in the padded seats.

After what had to be the most thrilling ride Harriet had ever had, they stopped beside a small Bronze door. Hagrid was looking a bit green and leaned against the wall after climbing out of the cart. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and, as it cleared, Harriet gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze coins. "Fuck me pink," she whispered. She walked slowly into the vault.

"All yours," said Hagrid.

Harriet spun and looked back at him standing in the door.

"All mine," she said.

"Yes," Hagrid said smiling happily at her reaction.

She turned again and stared at the gold. There were stacks everywhere in the room. It was huge, bigger than her room at the Dursleys!

She reached back and pulled him inside. "How much is it?" she demanded, pointing at the stack of gold coins.

"I dunno. Lots."

She turned to the Goblin. "How much is it?"

He pointed to above the door, sneering faintly.

She looked up. There was a counter there, on the inside and above the door. It read 300,001G, 15S, 9K.

"And it's mine," she said again.

The Goblin nodded, as did Hagrid.

"Can I take it all, right now?"

The Goblin and Hagrid looked at each other.

"Er, well, not 'xactly, Harry," said Hagrid.

"Why not, it's mine, right?" She was being belligerent.

"Well, it's yer vault and everthin', but it's serposed to last you all year, soes you can only take out a month's at a time. Yer a minor, you see, and this'ns gotta last yer 'til you're outa Hogwarts, yeh unnerstand?"

She studied him, then turned to the Goblin. "What happens when I take it all out?"

"This is a child's inheritance Vault," he explained. "Each year, on your birthday, the vault is refilled from the Potter Family main vault according to what you have removed. This year is the first year anything is being removed."

Harriet stood quietly, thinking. She looked up at the Goblin. "I want a new vault, one I can take as much out of as I want at a time. I want you to set it up so that the most money I can take out of this vault every month goes into that vault as soon as it can. I want this vault quite empty the day before it refills on my birthday. I want you to take care of it."

"Harry," Hagrid interrupted, "Are yer sure 'bout that?"

Harriet turned back to Hagrid. He had just given her complete and total financial freedom. She would never have to return to the Dursleys again. For years she had listened to the vendors and clients talking about finances while in that hotel room, and she knew a lot about money and investing. And she knew the only way to escape TFS was to have money, and lots of it. A few of the men had been amused at her interest and had indulged in answering her questions; one had even been enthusiastic about it, spending most of his time with her teaching, to the amusement of his fellows.

If the vault renewed as the Goblin said, then by the time she left school in seven years her vault would have over two million "galleons," more than enough for her to live on for the rest of her life, even with very conservative investments. She would never have to depend on a _man_, or _anyone_, to support her. Simply saying _thank you_ was not enough. Happiness, and Confidence, filled her.

Harriet grabbed his hand and turned him around, putting his back to her piles of gold. She smiled. She had learned that he was a simple man, not complicated. He wasn't stupid by any means, but he wasn't very fast on the uptake, give him time and he would figure things out, she was sure. He had, as she had heard it called, a big heart. There wasn't a mean bone in him.

She leaned against him, hard. He was a big man, but he was surprised at her move and he took a step back. And tripped on the stacks of coins at his heels. He fell backwards on the gold coins, sending them cascading all over the room. Taking advantage of his surprise, he was already starting to mumble, "Sorry about the mess," she moved up between his legs, flipping the end of his shirt up over his belt, and quickly loosening his trousers. She heard an "eh?" as he tried to push himself up on his elbows, the sliding coins underneath him making it difficult. She pulled his trousers down just enough and moved further up onto his legs. Hagrid stared at her in dumb shock at what she was doing now.

He was a giant man, but he _was_ a man. Given the right stimulus, he would respond. And Harriet was giving him the right stimulus. Before he could formulate any real resistance to her efforts, it was too late. He was thinking with his "little head," if he could be said to be thinking at all.

"Shouldna done that," Hagrid mumbled, avoiding her eyes as she scooped up coins and dropped them in the bag Griphook had given her. The Goblin had discretely returned to the cart until she had called to him, asking if he had a bag in which to put the money. "Shouldna done that," Hagrid mumbled, again, looking out the vault door.

"Hush, Hagrid," Harriet said firmly. "You did nothing wrong. Or are you saying you hate me?" It was a low blow, no pun intended, but it got his attention. He gave her a hurt look.

"'Arry," he said, blushing almost as red as the rust on the torch-holders in the vault, "Yer a student," he continued, whining plaintively, "Tha' could cost me me job!" Now he was staring at the Vault's floor.

"Well, then," she responded, "don't be an ass and tell everyone. If you won't, I won't."

"But we shouldna done that!" Progress, they had moved from _it was all his fault_ to _it was our fault_. "And why did yeh star' tha'?"

Harriet straightened and grinned at him. "Because you gave me something I never expected but always wanted — _freedom_! I never have to depend on someone else for anything. I can live where I want, buy what I want, do what I want, and never, _never_, have to wait for someone else to provide it for me. No one can make me do anything I _don't_ want to do." She stepped over and hugged him. He froze, stiff, afraid to move. Still hugging, she said, "I don't have anything of my own, except what I'm wearing. I wanted to thank you, to give you something for this wonderful gift you gave me. Accept my gift in the spirit it was intended. Be my friend. That's all, just _be my friend_. Now, help me fill this bag."

He shifted from foot to foot, "W'll, okay." He placed a hand on her head. She stepped back and smiled up at him. "Here," she said handing him the half-full bag. He turned away from her and started picking up handfuls of coins. She grabbed a handful and started filling his pockets.

"Wh't 're yeh doing, Harry?" He shuffled away from her.

"You've got far more pockets than I have bags. You're going to be my walking bank for a while."

Bemused, he said nothing more as she dumped handfuls of gold coins in his pockets while he filled the bag until he finally said, "I think that's more'n enough, there lass."

Grinning, she took him by the hand and dragged him back to the cart. Griphook was impatiently waiting. She leaned close to the Goblin and held out a handful of coins to him. "For being so patient with us," she whispered as she dropped them into his hands. He stared at her, shocked. "Remember," she added, "you're going to open a new vault for me and transfer the maximum from this vault to the new one every month." He nodded, as he shoved the coins into his pocket. "And at a discount rate, if you want to keep doing it," she added. The Goblin gave her a long look before nodding curtly.

The trip to Hagrid's vault was just as much fun for Harriet as the trip to hers, and she took every opportunity to push up against the giant and embarrass him.

"Harry," he said, blushing, as the cart coasted to a stop, "yeh shouldna do things like that!" He wasn't nearly as unhappy about it as he acted, she knew.

She grinned at him, "But you didn't get sick, did ya?"

"Err, right," was all he said as he climbed out of the cart. His business at this vault took only a few minutes.

The trip to the surface was a bit slower, it being mostly uphill, but still fun. And just as embarrassing for Hagrid. Griphook had them wait in a small office for a short while as he filled out some paperwork and had her sign parchments. "The first allotment has been shifted. If you need more galleons, you will withdraw them from the new vault," he said, holding a key out to her. She just stared at it, not taking it.

"And where will I put that key?" she asked.

Griphook looked at her and realized, she had no pockets nor bag. He sighed, unhappily, "I will hold the key for you until you return later today. You can keep the key in your school trunk in a protected slot." He placed the key in his pocket.

"Thank you Griphook, I'll remember to recommend your services to my friends. May your gold ever increase." She turned and skipped to the door.

"A most unusual child," Griphook said, looking up at Hagrid.

"Yeah, I'm learnin' that." He followed her out the door.

As Hagrid led her to the next spot on their tour, she saw a tall, well-robed man with extremely blonde hair leave _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ with a boy with equally blonde hair. "Wow," she said, "That's what I call over-bleaching," watching as they walked away. Hagrid just _harumped, _staring after them. Hagrid dropped her off at the door of the same shop, saying, "'Arry, hope yer don't mind, but I'm going ta pop over to the Leaky Cauldron for something to help settle me stomach. I'll be right back." He handed her the bag of gold.

Nervous, she quietly entered the shop. Madam Maulkin immediately noticed her and steered her into the back. Rather quickly, the woman measured her, fitted her, and told her her robes would be ready in a week. She explained, because Harriet was clearly not a wizard's child, that the robe colours would change to match her sorting House at Hogwarts and the House Shield would appear on the left breast. Hagrid returned just as she was leaving the shop with her pickup receipt.

From Maulkins they went to a bookstore, _Flourish and Blotts,_ and then continued to_ Slug &amp; Jiggers Apothecary, Potage's Cauldron Shop, Eeylops Owl Emporium_, and finally _Ollivander's. _Harriet almost walked past the wand store she was so busy admiring her beautiful snow-white Owl, a gift from Hagrid. And it was a _gift_ because she was Harriet Potter, the _person_, not as a reward or payback for what she did in the vault. Hagrid had made very sure she knew that he had intended to buy her an owl _before_ they went into Gringotts. He had been blushing furiously while explaining. Harriet thought it was rather cute seeing such a rough, tough, big man turning that red in embarrassment, stumbling over his words, when explaining the reason for a gift.

_Ollivander's_ had _Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c._ written on the door.

After startling them both with his sudden appearance, the old man, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop, said, "Ah yes, yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You look almost exactly like your father. Seems like it was just yesterday when he came for his wand. He favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Harriet wondered if she should feel offended at again being compared to her father. Or had he been especially effeminate in appearance?

The wand maker moved closer to Harriet, staring at her. She wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your mother, on the other hand, had a wand ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. You have her eyes."

He stared at her forehead. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly, quickly reaching up and touching her scar as if he could see it through her fringe. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands. . . well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . ."

He turned his attention to Hagrid, as if noticing him for the first time. He seemed to know that Hagrid had been using his broken wand, and was not pleased, saying so in guarded words. But then he turned back to Harriet.

"Odd, though," he continued, as if he had not stopped talking to Harriet, "You seem to be more than you appear." He rubbed his hands together, "This," he declared, "will be a challenge."

Almost an hour later, a tired Harriet gave a yew wand with a phoenix feather core a wave, and sparks flew. Hagrid cheered and clapped, Mr. Ollivander laughed in delight, but ended up mumbling "curious, though."

Harriet looked at the old man, "Curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harriet with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. The phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its sister — its sister gave you that scar." He gestured towards Harriet's forehead. "I expect great things from you, Mr. Potter."

Harriet, for the first time in a long time, reached up and rubbed her scar. She had tried to hide it once with some of Aunt 'Tunia's Facial Foundation. It had just flaked off within minutes. Aunt 'Tunia had not been pleased at Harriet's using her makeup, and punished her severely for it.

The wand-maker started to package the wand in its box when Harriet asked, "How am I supposed to carry the wand in school? Just shove it in my hair, behind my ear, like a pencil? Or is there a holster of some kind for it?"

Mr. Ollivander stopped and looked down at Harriet, smiling, pleased at her questions. "Yes, you will do great things, it shows, even now." He turned away from her and moved over to another display case. "The owner of the sister to your wand did great things as well. Terrible, but great nonetheless," he mumbled.

He reached into the display and pulled something out. "Your arm, please." Harriet held out her right arm. He started strapping a solid black leather-like contraption around her arm. "Dragon-skin, from a Norwegian Ridgeback, very tough, spelled to be invisible once you have it on, with a comfort charm so soft you'll forget you're wearing it. If someone grabs your arm, they won't even feel it. Neither it nor your wand can be summoned while you're wearing it." He finished fiddling with the straps, picked up Harriet's wand from the counter, and slid it into the holster. Even though the contraption easily fit the short five-inch distance between Harriet's wrist and elbow, the entire 13-inch length of her wand disappeared into the holster without complaint.

"Just flick your wrist, as if you're holding a wand, and it will pop right out."

It took Harriet several tries but finally her wand appeared in her hand. "Crikey, that's fabulous!"

The wand-maker showed her how to slide the wand back in place with a minimum of effort, "You'll learn how to do it one-handed quickly enough," he added, smiling creepily.

It came to thirteen galleons, total.

"Hagrid, where am I going to put all this stuff?" she asked as they left the store. Hagrid, as large as he was, was loaded down with packages. Harriet would never be able to carry it to Hogwarts.

"A trunk, almos' forgot 'bout that," Hagrid said. He headed off in a new direction. "It's a bit off the main alley, but good bargains," Hagrid explained. Shortly they arrived in front of a small shop with a faded sign, _Truckle's Trunks — Makers of Fine Trunks Since 1525_. A small bell dinged as they entered and, a moment later, a tall, thin man of uncertain age came out of the back.

"Ah, yes, Hogwarts, I presume? I'm Ben Truckle, at your service." He bowed politely.

At Harriet's uncertain nod he led them to a pile of grey trunks, each just over a four feet long (as long as Harriet was tall), half that in width, and only about a third as tall. Harriet could easily fit inside it without touching any of the sides. There were four thick bands of wood as bumpers, with handles on the sides and front.

"Here we go, unspelled trunks. They'll change colour to match your House when you're sorted, or you can choose to go with one of variety of twenty-seven wood patterns or fifteen leather patterns, just 25 galleons."

An open trunk was at the front of the pile, the top tray sideways to reveal the inside.

"Nope," Harriet said, "won't do. Too small." Everything Hagrid was carrying would fit, even the robes when Harriet picked them up, but it would be tight. Plus, she intended to add a few more books to her library when she picked up her robes.

The two men looked at her in surprise. The storekeeper spoke up, "Oh, well, I can add an interior enlargement spell if you wish, for five galleons." He looked at her speculatively. "Or, I have fancier trunks over here, with fold out drawers and shelves." He pointed a bit further into the store. "I even have trunks with up to three rooms, if you really need space."

"Rooms," Harriet said speculatively, Oh, yes, those sounded about right. "Show me."

A brief glance at the big man revealed no hesitance at the little witch's demand, which led the storekeeper to believe money would not be an issue.

Smiling at successfully hooking what promised to be a big sale, Ben led them to the back of the store and showed them a stack of trunks. He opened one and one side fell down. He gestured her forward. When she looked there was a steep staircase leading inside starting where the open side was. "This one has a small closet that can also double as a storeroom, it's only 100 galleons and a bargain considering it has at least ten times a standard trunk's storage room."

She examined several trunks, one had a storage room, a bedroom, and a potions room.

"No," Harriet said slowly, after looking at the selection. She had an idea from a book she had seen in the school library. It had had a picture of an old steamer trunk from a time before airplanes. A time when rich people used to spend weeks traveling at sea and wanted a convenient method of reaching what they had packed away instead of rooting around in the bottom of a traditional horizontal trunk.

Harriet turned to Hagrid, who had been following, and saying such things as, "Th'at'd be nice," and "'re yeh sure about t'is, 'Aarry?" at regular intervals. "Hagrid?" she said, "Would you turn this trunk on its side?"

"Like t'is, Harry?" he said as he lifted a closed trunk by a side handle and set the trunk on end.

"Perfect." She turned to the storekeeper who was watching. "I want something different. I want a trunk that opens like this," she swung the former top of the trunk open, like she was opening a door, and then set the interior tray aside as she didn't need it. "On this side," she pointed to the former bottom of the trunk, "I want six drawers, a big one about a foot deep at the bottom for trainers and so forth, and four smaller ones all the same depth for other stuff, and a shallow one at the top for jewelry and such." She watched him nod in understanding. Now for the neat stuff, magical stuff.

"On this side," she pointed to the former top, "I want the top part to lift up until it's even with the back piece," she pantomimed lifting the former side flap up. "And when it's vertical I want it to extend up until it's six feet up," she paused. "Once it finishes, it becomes a door to the rooms I want. No awkward stairs or ladders, this way," she explained. "Put a dial here," she pointed to a spot on what would be the front panel on the inside of the cover, "that I can turn to select which room I want."

The storekeeper arched his eyebrows and muttered, "Ah, yes, I see."

She grinned, "I want a walk-in closet, a bedroom, a. . . ," she paused, ". . . _Oh_, and a bathroom with toilet and a _big_ tub, and. . . ," she drew out the 'and' for a moment. "_Oh_, and a kitchen! And, and. . . a Potion's Room! I think that should do. Can you do all that? Or do we need to go elsewhere?" Nothing like issuing a challenge and mildly insulting his abilities. Would he rise to the bait? Of course he would. . . .

"Naturally I can do that," Truckle declared loudly, "Easy as a sticking charm." He paused. "But it'll be expensive. 'Bout 500 galleons."

Harriet's grin grew wider. "I have a little business proposition for you. . . ."

An hour later, they were headed to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner.

"'owed you do tha' 'Arry?" Hagrid stared straight ahead.

"Do what?"

"Talk 'im into giving you tha' there fancy trunk fer free?"

"Haagriiid, you were there!"

"Yeah, but. . . ," the giant shook his head bemusedly. ". . . 'Arry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks? Do ye really think tha'll sell?"

"Hagrid, if even half of what you told me yesterday and today is true about the wizards here, he won't be able to make them fast enough. The kids who have a trunk will all want a new one! He'll get rich off this. And it won't hurt me, either, getting 10% off every sale! Besides, if he thought it wouldn't work, he would never have agreed. And you saw how fast he signed that contract."

Hagrid shook his head in disbelief, a _free_ fancy trunk!

Harriet was skipping alongside Hagrid, stopping occasionally to spin in place. She could not recall being this happy, ever. She was rich. She had an income, now, that could easily provide what little spending money she would need at school, just in case that vault stuff got bolloxed up. All her things, shrunken to fit, were in her new purse, slung across her chest, a deal-sealing gift from Ben. Anything she took out would restore to its proper size, then shrink when she it put it back. It wouldn't open for anyone but her and if she lost it, it would return to her when she called for it. It could even turn invisible if she turned the latch just so. She danced in the street. She could hardly wait to tell mum and dad.

As she was eating a sandwich, a delicious thing even if she had no idea what was in it, she suddenly had a thought. "Haagriid, how do I get back here to pick up my robes and trunk? Uncle Vernon won't do it, and I'm sure you're too busy."

"Simple, 'Arry, you're a wizard now. Just go outside yer 'ome and raise your wand hand in the air, and Stan and Ernie'll find you right quick. Take yeh anywhere on land, th'y says. The Knight Bus be right cheap, too." He gave her a quick glance from the corners of his eyes.

Thinking of the trip in the rowboat and the Underground led Harriet to ask, "Why didn't we take that from the island?"

Hagrid grimaced and got a sick look on his face, "Doesn't agree with me, 'Arry, worsen the Goblin cart, it is." Ooh, that made it sound as if it would be loads of fun! She could hardly wait to try it.

As Harriet chewed her last bite, and thought over her vault and business deal earlier in the day, she remembered she had seen a number of books with _her_ name on them, or rather _his_ name — _Harry Potter and the Banshee_, _Harry Potter and the Invisible Muggle_, and many others besides. A solicitor, she definitely needed a solicitor. First, to make sure her business arrangement with Truckle stayed on the straight and narrow, and second, to get after those thieves for stealing her name. . . _his_ name. . . to make money.

"Haagriid," she called, "I need a solicitor for my business dealings."

He stared at her, took another drink from his tankard, and stared some more. She stared back at him, trying to project an air of innocence. Finally, he said, "I'll ask the 'eadmaster. Maybe 'e knows someun good. I'll Owl yeh." He shook his head, amazed. Eleven years old and already in business!

Watching Hagrid waving as the train pulled out of the station to take Harriet back to the Dursleys left her feeling hollow. She decided that being called Harri maybe wasn't so bad after all.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Author's Note:_ My calculations on the vault contents are this: The movie shows a stack of coins almost as tall as Harry, and it is clearly as wide as he is tall, 48" (average 11 year old is 52", 48 is a slightly below average 9 year old —Harry is under-sized due to Dursleys, malnourishment). It also seems reasonable that the mound is roundish and not square-ish. _

_The average gold coin is 1.5" in diameter (~38-39mm) and .0944" thick (~2.4mm). Figuring the square inches of the pile, 3.14159 x (24" x 24") / 2.25sq inches ('cause round coins take a square's space) yields ~ 804 coins per layer. The pile is not squared vertically, but you can probably assume that the first two feet are solid with coins, thus multiply 804 x 24" tall / 0.0944 which becomes 204,406 coins. Figuring the top two feet as the top of a four-foot diameter globe (4/3 x 3.14159 x radius-cubed, then taking half that and dividing by the volume a coin—2.25" x 0.0944—again allowing for the fact that the coin is round but it takes up a rectangular volume on the floor) adds another 136,000 coins. So, not counting the smaller stacks of sickles and knuts mentioned, and allowing for approximation errors, 300,000 galleons makes a reasonable guess. It could be as high as 350,000G. If the pile were closer to square in footprint, then you would get 1,024 coins per layer (wouldn't be perfectly square, so 1,000 sounds more reasonable). That assumption would result, from the above calculations, in 400,000 plus coins._

_Regarding the family vault, it's stated the Potters were very wealthy. As the sole inheritor, Harry is not merely rich but very wealthy as well. Regarding the rationale that Harry's vault is a smaller one than the Family vault, consider that Hagrid asks for Harry's Vault, not the Potter's Vault, which should be of a size to match the Lestrange Vault._


	3. Wizarding Business

_Note: 5/5/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**3\. Wizarding Business**

When Harriet told Uncle Vernon she would have to return to Diagon Alley the week after her first visit, he pitched a fit. He no longer struck her, as he used to do when she was much smaller, but his abusive rant lasted almost an hour and he locked her into her room for the next three days. Dudley, though, came through, and managed to sneak her some meager rations after lunch and dinner. He came around to her window after each meal and tossed the food up to her in a rolled-shut paper bag. They had worked out the system shortly after she moved from underneath the cupboard years ago. Sometimes he would sit outside her door and talk, but only when his parents were not home.

TFS's treatment might have gone on for longer if she hadn't let slip to Dudley, on purpose, that Hagrid had given her some money — a few of gold coins.

"Did you say gold coins?" he asked incredulous.

"Yeah. Those wizards are daft at best. They still use gold coins."

"Bloody hell, how much do you think they're worth?"

"Beats me, but I think they're worth a lot more than the wizards think they are."

"Kin I see one?"

She kneeled on the floor by the door. "Here, Dudley," she slid a coin under the door. Would he take the bait?

"Wow! Whatdaya think its worth?" Yes! She had him.

"I don't know. You think a jeweler might know? Isn't there one near the school?"

"Yeah, you might be right."

"Take this to him and see what he says it's worth."

"'kay. Wow, this thing looks weird. Kinda heavy, too." She heard him heavily get to his feet. "Don't got anything else to do this afternoon," she heard him say as he went down the hall.

Two hours later, he pounded on her door, startling her into dropping her _Everything You Wanted to Know About Hogwarts_ book. "Harriet! Harriet! You won't believe it but he gave me twenty-five pounds for it, and wanted to know if I had more!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah!" She could hear him panting. Had he actually run home?

"Harriet? Maybe if you gave a couple of these to dad he might be nicer to you before you go to school."

He started stuffing the pound notes under her door.

"You think he might?" No shit, Sherlock! That greedy fat slob would never pass up the chance to get more money.

"Yeah."

She took some of the notes, but pushed a bunch back under to him.

"Here, keep half, I never would have known if you hadn't helped."

"Cor!" he said softly.

"I've only got ten more coins and I'll need to keep one for when I go back to Diagon Alley."

And so, with Dudley's help, she struck a deal with Uncle Vernon. No punishments for the rest of the month. Meals provided, but she had to eat in her room. She tried to negotiate the trips to the hotel suite. He agreed to no trips for the next three weeks, but he refused to budge about the last week before she left for Hogwarts. He couldn't change plans he'd already set, he claimed. And having said she only had ten when she started talking with him, she couldn't suddenly "find" more gold to bribe him. She had trapped herself. Still, she gave Dudley several of the silver coins as a reward. She was sure he would discover what they were worth.

Very early the next Wednesday, August seventh, before the Dursleys even woke, she walked out the front door of #4 Privet Drive and held up her right hand. She had her wand — Mr. Ollivander was right, she had forgotten she was wearing it a couple of times, it was only when she flicked her hand and the wand appeared that she knew for sure she was wearing the holster — and her shoulder bag with everything in it. She stood there for about ten seconds, feeling like a fool. Something made her look down the street in time to see a bus turn the corner. It made her eyes hurt to look at it, like she wasn't supposed to look directly at it, and she just knew there was something behind her that needed her attention _right now_.

She resisted the impulse and stayed still. The bus, an eye-bleeding brilliant purple, stopped with the steps to board almost at her feet. And the bus was three decks high!

"Step lively, there, lass," said a man standing at the step entrance, "We don't want any Muggles to see us. The charm works for only a short time."

The bus started moving almost as soon as her other foot left the pavement.

"Where to lass?"

"The Leaky Cauldron?"

"That'll be seven sickles, please. Hear that Ernie?" he called out, "the Cauldron!"

"I heard, I heard," came the reply.

She handed him a galleon, and he gave her ten sickles change.

"I'm your conductor, Stan," he said, "and your driver is Ernie. Better find a seat right fast. It can be hard to keep your feet once Ernie gets moving."

She stared, holding onto one of the many metal braces. Instead of seats, like a normal bus, this one had beds! The bus jolted to the right, then back to the left, almost knocking her from her feet. Then it went up, buckling her knees, before dropping and leaving her in the air for a second. Maybe beds _were_ a better idea. She stumbled to the nearest one, which was, fortunately, unoccupied. She jumped on the bed and wrapped her arms around one of the support bars. A tinkling sound drew her attention and she saw that the bus had a chandelier! These wizards _were_ daft!

The ride was almost as much fun as the Gringotts cart ride, and, all too soon, they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. Stan warned her they were approaching, so she had time to get to the exit before the bus stopped. She jumped off and the bus was gone almost immediately. She _loved_ this Wizarding World, daft or not! She wondered if she could get Dudley on the bus for a trip, he liked roller coasters, he had said. And from his descriptions, this bus probably qualified as one!

She skipped into the pub and straight to Tom, the bartender, "Excuse me," she said brightly, "could you please show me the trick to Diagon Alley, one more time?" She smiled up at him sweetly.

"Certainly, lass, takes just a moment."

A minute later, she was making her way down Diagon Alley. She stopped at the Truckle's Trunks window, smiling. Prominently displayed at the top of the window was a sign, _Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks_. Below it on the left was an open upright trunk. Both sides were of the same depth, and a small sign was on top of the right side:_ Hogwarts' First Year's Model_. You could see drawers on the right side, a middle drawer open with a sock artfully draped over the side while the bottom drawer, also open, held a couple of folded robes. On top of the bottom drawer was a shelf with several books on it. The left side had the top panel open, with a metal 'T' fitted horizontally across that opening. Hanging from the center bar were several shirts and a couple of trousers, all on clothes hangers. When traveling, the top panel locked down and prevented the clothes hangers from coming off their support, and the crossbar of the 'T' prevented them from sliding off the end, as well as keeping the center bar from bending under the weight of the clothes. Below the hanging clothes was a shallow drawer, opened to reveal two pairs of shoes, with room left over.

Beside that trunk was another, this one closed so you could see a small square bronze plate, centered at the top, embossed with _Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks_ in fancy script. Below that was a bronze "1." Propped against the trunk in a wooden frame was Harry's picture.

Ben had had a wizard's camera, so she had tied her hair back in a knot and wetted down and combed her fringe into her hair over her forehead. It hadn't smoothed down very well and the fringe stood more straight up than laid back, giving her hair a wild, unkept, boyish appearance. She had added a slight smudge to her cheek. Her scar was distinct and very much on display. Ben had loaned her a white shirt, he said it was an old one from when his son had gone off to Hogwarts. It looked a bit large on her, but that played to her appearance as a small boy. No one looking at the photo would guess it was of a girl. The photograph Harry Potter was holding his wand up and looking from side to side and smiling at everyone.

It was perfect.

A woman and her boy were standing beside Harriet, looking at the trunk. "I want that one, mom," the boy declared. "Honey," she replied, "Don't you want to use your dad's trunk?"

"Mom, look, this one has drawers and hangers. You won't have to worry about my clothes getting wrinkled. And I won't keep losing things in the bottom of the trunk like dad says used to happen to him all the time. And he says you had the same problem."

"You just want it because it says Harry Potter."

"No, I don't. It's perfect for keeping my stuff straight. Pleeease!"

The woman sighed and let her son drag her into the store.

Chuckling, Harri left the storefront and skipped to Madam Maulkins.

Half an hour later, she was back with her school-required robes.

"Harriet!" Mr. Truckle exclaimed, "How are you! Your trunk is waiting for you. Come on back this way." He turned to a young man standing behind the counter, "Henry, I'll leave this to you for a while, I have important business with Miss Harriet, here. Call me if you have any problems." The man nodded, and finished ringing up the purchase by the woman and boy Harri had seen earlier.

As soon as they were in the back, Ben gleefully rubbed his hands together, "Business has never been better," he said in an excited whisper, "and it's all due to your new upright trunk! It takes a bit more work, but the premium your name adds easily covers that. I had the first model up the next day and sold it in an hour." He hurried over to a desk, tapped a big closed box with his wand, and took out a bag. "I was going to go to Gringotts today with this, 198 galleons, 9 sickles, and 21 knuts, a full month's earnings in only a week!"

Harri blinked, thinking hard, 2,000 divided by 35, round it to 40, was. . . "You sold over 50 trunks in a just a week?"

"Not quite, I sold eight of the First Year models, four Second Years, three Third Year, and one Fifth Year." Each model 'year' added a room and increased the price. The Fifth year cost 500 galleons. "And the best part is there's still three weeks to go!"

Harri grinned in turn, "And don't forget the students at school who will see the new trunks once school starts and demand their parents get them one."

Ben sighed happily. "I've already beat last year's sales, so everything from this point on is pure profit, even counting the clerk I had to hire. I've been so busy converting the trunks I needed someone to do the actual sales!"

"And my trunk?"

"Oh, yes. This way. Oh, and here," he handed Harri the bag of coins. Harri followed him to the other side of the workshop, putting the bag in her shoulder bag.

"As we agreed," he pointed to a trunk that had _Harriet Potter_ emblazoned on the top and above the side carrying-handle. Additionally there was a Harry Potter logo plate beside the latch. "It has a bedroom, a walk-in closet — that's the most popular room addition, by the way — a bathroom with a large tub and shower, a kitchen, and a potions room. The bedroom and kitchen are unfurnished, I didn't know what you wanted. You can set the wall colours to solids or any patterns you want. The instructions are in the manual."

He opened the trunk and pointed to a thin book on the bookshelf, "The manual." The bookshelf was covered with a mesh screen to keep the books from falling out while traveling, with a brass button at the top. On this trunk, and all the trunks with rooms, the right side was deep and the left, door-side was thin, but the overall size and shape matched the First Year's Trunks so they would all stack properly in transport. He turned and pointed to a dial on the left side, "The room selector." He rotated the dial, the name of each room appearing in a small window over the dial. "The rooms are all interconnected inside, so you don't have to leave the trunk to go from one to another — be a bit of a bother to have to leave the trunk just to go from the bedroom to the loo late at night." He glanced back at her, grinning.

"Next," he pointed to the outside latch, "this is set to open only to your touch or your wand held by your hand. Touch here." He pointed to a blank spot on the latch. Harri touched it and jerked her hand back at the slight sting. "It took a sample of your blood, and no one but you can open it now, unless you set up a password, too. The instructions are in the manual." The blank spot now had a small emblem of what looked like a medieval shield and lions on either side. "Also, because you'll be in a dorm, the room selector and doors only work for you, and the individual drawers can be locked and unlocked by touching the brass button on each so you won't have to open and close the entire trunk just to get your shoes. And you can set them to a password, instructions are in the manual."

"To prevent someone from trying to lock you in your own trunk, there's an emergency exit system. If the trunk is closed, when you open the exit door you look out whichever side of the trunk is not blocked by something. Opening and closing the door moves to the next side, widdershins, cycling through all four sides, top, and bottom. In an extreme emergency, you can force the trunk to come here, to my workroom, or to another preset location. Instructions are in the manual."

He stepped back from the trunk, "Would you like to take a brief tour?"

It was everything he had promised. The bedroom was as big as the Dursleys' sitting room, as was the bathroom, and the tub was big enough for Hagrid! The walk-in closet was only a bit smaller than her bedroom at the Dursleys. The kitchen was huge, and put the Dursleys' kitchen to shame, it was large and roomy, with two pantries, one for regular foods and another that kept food cold indefinitely without spoiling; it even had space for a large dining table, separated from the cooking area by a breakfast counter. The potions room was the same size as the kitchen, with two separate fires for cauldrons, well lit, with storage shelves lining one wall and bins another.

As the shopkeeper closed up the trunk, he said, "Oh, almost forgot. If you push this," he pointed to a brass piece shaped like a bird beside the latch, "you engage a feather-weight charm that makes the trunk weigh about five pounds. Push it back to the middle to turn it off. Push it further and a sticking charm activates to prevent the trunk from moving. Only you can push it, unless you decide to use a password lock on it instead, look in the manual for instructions. And finally, twist this," he pointed to a brass piece on the other side of the latch, this one shaped in concentric rings, "to shrink the trunk to this size and automatically engage the feather-weight charm for four ounces," he pulled a box about the size of a set of Muggle playing cards out of his pocket. The concentric-ring brass piece was in the middle of one side of the small box. "To restore it, twist it again. Doesn't matter which way you twist it, just put your finger on it and twist. Again, only you can do this unless you set a password."

Harriet was very happy as she left the store with her miniaturized trunk in her shoulder bag. She had taken a few moments to put her robes in the closet, her books on the bookshelf, and her school supplies in the appropriate areas.

She headed off to South Street, where Ben had told her she could find a furniture store or two. She wanted to outfit her bedroom and kitchen. And perhaps pick up more potion ingredients and books.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

It was almost 11:30 and Harriet was sitting at an outdoor café enjoying the sun and a cup of tea as she waited for her appointment to show up. True to his word, Hagrid had sent her an owl explaining that the Headmaster had set up an appointment for her with the solicitor he recommended.

While waiting, Harri had been people. . . wizard and witch. . . watching. She had quickly noticed what she had missed the first time she was in the Alley. They were almost all fit. A few might be ten to twenty pounds over their optimum weight, none were what she would call fat, much less obese, like many of the people she saw in the Muggle World. She wondered if magic had anything to do with it. Would their magic keep them fit unless they somehow overrode it? Perhaps a fat witch was fat on purpose, to avoid unwanted attentions of a certain sort. She could see that, easily.

She had almost finished her tea when she looked up and saw a tall woman with long, thick light brown hair, thin lips, heavily-lidded eyes with long eyelashes, and a strong jaw walking towards her. She was pretty, even beautiful, and her robe was professional in appearance. She carried a small briefcase. Almost all the other women Harri had seen today were shopping, and many were dragging kids around with them.

Harriet stood and extended her hand as the woman reached her table, "Hi, I'm Harriet, my friends call me Harri. Are you Mrs. Tonks?" In business, as she had heard many times, and knew from experience, taking the initiative is rarely a bad idea. Sometimes being forward got you exactly what you wanted from the other party, with a minimum of anxiety and fuss. You just had to time it right, too early and you scared them away or put them on their guard, too late and, well, too late was just too late. She might not have liked all her business experiences, but the alternatives had always been worse.

The woman smiled, slightly taken aback at the forwardness of the little girl in the plain robes. "Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Harriet." She noted that the girl did not say her last name.

"Before we sit down," Harri said, "Should we go somewhere more private for our business discussions?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Mrs. Tonks replied appearing unsurprised at the question. The Headmaster's Owl must have warned her that Harriet might not know much magic. "I can just cast a _muffliato_ spell and no one will be able to hear us or read our lips." She pulled back a chair and sat.

"Oooh, that sounds neat!" Harri said dropping back into her chair. She waved her arm at the waitress, and ordered two teas. The server immediately brought over an additional cup and a new pot.

Mrs. Tonks waited until the waitress had left, then lifted her wand, gave the tip a whirl while saying _muffliato_, and the sounds around them ceased.

"Could you show me that?" asked Harri.

Smiling, the solicitor explained the wand movements and pronunciation. "You have to think about whom you want included, or the space you want covered while you're casting the spell," she finished. She canceled the _muffliato_ with _finite incantatem_ and let Harri cast the silencing spell. It took her several tries but she finally succeeded. "Excellent," Mrs. Tonks said, "_finite incantatem_, as you saw, cancels the spell. In fact, it cancels most spells."

Harri practiced that spell until she could create and cancel the _muffliato_ at will.

"Bravo! Now, how many spells does that make it that you know now?"

Harri smiled wryly, "Two." She had tried several spells at home, but there's a big difference between reading how to move a wand and actually seeing it. "Could you show me one more? _Reparo_?" It was for repairing things she had read in her book of charms, she had tried it but she must have been doing something wrong.

"It's pronounced _rePARoh_, dear, and you move your wand like this," Mrs. Tronks demonstrated, "Remember, magic is all about intent, so think about what you want it to do, picture it in your mind." She pointed her wand at Harri's glasses and said, "_Reparo_." There was a click. Harri took off her glasses and removed the tape. Her glasses were in perfect shape! She put them back on. The solicitor said, "Here, let me do another one so you can see it in action." She then picked up her saucer and smashed it on the table, startling Harri. "_Reparo_."

Harri watched, fascinated, as the shattered pieces seemed to fly back into place and a whole, unbroken saucer sat on the table. "Now, you try it," the solicitor said. It was scary, deliberately breaking the plate, but watching it fly back together was just so neat! That was going to be _really_ useful. She had broken a few things in her experiments at home. She was fairly bouncing in her chair. Dudley was going to be really and truly surprised when she got home and suddenly all his broken toys weren't!

"Well, dear," Mrs. Tonks said, after watching Harri practically vibrate with excitement for several minutes, lost in her thoughts of magic, "Why did you want to see me?" Mrs. Tonks was a businesswitch, after all. The headmaster had hinted that Harriet, here, was somehow important, ending his letter with the cryptic, "appearances can be deceptive" and "what you think might be true might not." The headmaster's letter and endorsement that she should hear the child out were really the only reasons she had agreed to this meeting, Harriet found out later.

Harri stilled herself, time for mum's Confidence. One moment she was bouncing in her chair, an expression of glee on her face, and the next she was quiet, a small smile, and a reserved atmosphere around her. It was time for business.

"Yes," she said evenly. She lifted her saucer to reveal a galleon coin, and slid it across the table with one finger to the solicitor. "I believe this is the traditional retainer for a first consultation, until we negotiate something more adequate for a regular business arrangement."

The woman stared at the galleon, then slowly reached over and took it. "Yes, that's correct." She had accepted payment for services, anything discussed from the moment they met was now confidential, including her client's identity. The headmaster would not be pleased when she refused to tell him anything about the meeting, and that client confidentiality applied. Most children did not know about that, though.

"Good." Harri's voice was business-like, clipped, no wasted words. "Here, this is a contract I negotiated last week. It was the best I could do on the fly. Please check it for errors." Harriet paused a moment as she slid a parchment across to the solicitor. "I'm sure there are many things it does not include that a contract should, but I believe it is adequate for honest businessmen." Years of listening as the Grunnings Drills' salesmen discussed their successes and failures had paid off.

Mrs. Tonks picked up the parchment and read it, her expression carefully neutral. Then she reread it, making comments. "You are agreeing to allow Truckle's Trunks to make and sell a line of upright trunks under the name of Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks for a 10% royalty. He will make payments monthly to your Gringotts account as long as they are above one galleon. He will keep accurate records, which he will make available to you on demand. He can use your name, picture, and/or likeness to promote, advertise, and market _only_ these trunks. He _cannot_ sublicense manufacturing to anyone else, except his direct employees. He will not make or sell any upright trunks that are similar to Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks, or could be construed as direct competition to Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks. He _cannot_ sublicense your name, picture, and/or likeness to anyone for any purpose, whatsoever. He will not reveal your identity to anyone. Both parties will attempt to maintain the good name and reputation of the brand at all times, and will abide both the intent and the letter of this contract. This contract will last until canceled by either party for breach of contract, for lack of sales, or by mutual agreement. If the contract is canceled, Truckle's Trunks must stop manufacturing of the trunks immediately, they can sell off premade stock, they are prohibited from competing with Harry Potter's Enchanted Travel Trunks for a period of three years, unless a mutual agreement otherwise is reached beforehand. Penalties for breach of contract may be assessed. It has both your signatures, and it looks like a blood spot below each."

"But, Harriet," she looked at the contract, "this contract can't possibly be right because you're a girl and I know Harry Potter is a boy."

Harriet grinned at her. "Well, it appears you're wrong." She reached up and pulled her fringe apart revealing the telltale lightning-shaped scar. "My parents were James and Lilly Potter, and they died when I was fifteen months old, that's when I got this. I was told Lord Voldemort killed them."

Mrs. Tonks winced, and stared at her skeptically. Obviously, if not for the Headmaster's letter she would already have left. She was probably thinking that maybe Harriet had carved that scar into her forehead. Or, and Harri saw her as she looked around them carefully to see if anyone was showing an undo amount of attention, an adult had done that to her and made her believe a lie.

"I can prove it," Harri stated, raising her wand. "I swear that I am the child of James and Lilly Potter, and the one that the wizards call Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, even though I am a girl." There was a swirl of magic around the girl and her wand glowed briefly. She was telling the absolute truth. If it had been a lie that she believed was the truth, nothing would have happened. Mr. Truckle had been skeptical as well and demanded a similar statement, after explaining what a wizard's oath was.

"Impossible," Mrs. Tonks said. "I saw Harry when they brought him over to hide at our house during the war. He is a boy."

Harriet shrugged, "Maybe whatever it was that that Voldemort guy did to give me this scar changed my gender." Harri noticed that Mrs. Tonks winched at the man's name. "I frankly don't know. I do know that as long as I can remember, I've been a girl. And my Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and cousin Dudley emphatically agree."

The solicitor looked at Harriet for almost a full minute, then looked at the parchment in her hand. She looked back up. "Very well done for someone who has never written a contract."

Harri accepted the change of subject. "He insisted on the blood, though, seemed right desperate to get it."

"Well, and you probably do not know this, but the blood makes this a wizard contract. If either of you break it, the other will know immediately."

"But how would the magic know if I did something in breach if nobody knew it was me doing it?" Harri tensed, what her Uncle made her do was definitely illegal, she knew, but she also knew she had no choice.

Mrs. Tonks looked at her a moment, startled at the very perceptive question. "Well, for example, let's say you went and bought fire whiskey, which is highly illegal for a child to have. As the purchaser, you would get a twinge, a feeling, that this would cause a problem with this contract. If an Auror then caught you, you would know that you had breached the 'maintain the good name and reputation of the brand' clause, and so would Mr. Truckle."

"What if . . . what if my uncle made me buy fire whiskey, or what if he made me do something else that was illegal, and I had no choice?"

"Not your fault. The clause does nothing." The solicitor saw the faint signs of Harri relaxing. If she took on this child as a client, she would have to do some background research. Maybe she should do that _before_ she agreed to an arrangement.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their tea, both lost in thought.

Finally, Harri reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out the bag Ben had given her. "For monitoring a contract like this, I believe the rate is 10%?" she said as she counted out twenty galleons and slid them to her solicitor.

The solicitor stared at her, astonished, her eyebrows had risen dramatically, her thoughts plain: The contract was only a week old and Harri was saying that 10% of her royalty sales were twenty galleons? Truckle had sold 2,000 galleons worth of Harry Potter trunks in just _one_ week?

Harri explained. "I stopped by the store this morning and he gave me this bag, saying he was about to make the deposit. He gave me 198 galleons and a bunch of sickles and knuts, but I just rounded it to twenty galleons, it's easier for me that way."

Mrs. Tonks nodded slowly. She, like Hagrid, knew just how popular Harry Potter was in the Wizarding World. She lifted her briefcase to the table, opened it, and took out a parchment. She thought a moment, tapped the parchment with her wand, and writing appeared. She read it, made a few changes, and then slid it across to Harri.

"This is our agreement. It's straightforward; any deposits made by Truckle's Trunks to your account will have my fee automatically deducted. In exchange I will oversee the account and make sure his payments are accurate and timely, and will be your go-between should he run into any issues or problems. The agreement lasts until either of us cancels it, for any reason whatsoever, with 30-day notice in writing. We both swear to be honest in all our dealings."

Mrs. Tonks was anxious to leave, Harri saw, she clearly some hard questions for her friend, Headmaster Dumbledore. Harri read the parchment, took her proffered quill, and signed the document. Then she pricked her finger with the solicitor's knife and let a drop of blood fall on the parchment. Mrs. Tonks repeated those actions, tapped the parchment with her wand, and a duplicate appeared. She handed it to Harri.

"Now," said Harri, "Here's something else that needs your attention." She dropped a copy of _Harry Potter and the Barking Banshee_ on the table. "Make them pay for using my name to make money without paying me, and make it clear that if they want to continue it's going to cost them dearly."

That discussion took half an hour. Harri understood she would probably have to go with Solicitor Tonks at least once to prove her claim to being Harry Potter. Fortunately, it appeared that the wizarding world had followed the muggle world in copyright and trademark laws.

Andromeda, Harriet knew that was her first name because she had seen it on the contracts, was sliding the finished copy of the book-contract agreement in her briefcase when Harri pulled out and put on the table another book, _101 Useful Charms for Writers_. Harri had noticed the book the last time she was in the bookstore. She bought the book this time, and had spent an hour reading it while the furniture people prepared and arranged things in her trunk. It was a positively delightful book for someone who had to write a lot, almost as useful as the Wang VS5000 word processor that the secretaries in the Grunnings Drills' office used.

Harri noticed that her solicitor seemed a bit put out. She smiled. "I noticed this book in the store and picked it up. It has a lot of useful stuff. But I also noticed that the quills being sold in the stores didn't have any really useful spells on them except to refill them with ink."

Mrs. Tonks nodded.

"Well, I have an idea for a line of Harry Potter Enchanted Quills."

"Of course you do," the solicitor muttered.

Harri ignored that and continued, "Imagine a student quill that only writes perfect letters and never splotches or spills ink. A quill that ensures your lines are always even and uniform. A quill you never have to sharpen and whose point never breaks or splits. A quill that lets you insert, delete, or change letters. A quill that lets you move words, sentences, and paragraphs from one spot to another, rearranging the words on the parchment around as needed." The secretaries at Grunnings Drills loved how much simpler those VS5000 features made their correspondence and reports instead of laboring with a typewriter and correction fluid. "A quill that always spelled words correctly. A quill that, if there were words that sounded the same, would show you your choices on the feather and you could select the correct one. Perhaps even a quill with a built-in thesaurus." Those features were not on the VS5000, but there were rumours they were on the way. Harri looked at the woman across from her, "Do you think students might be willing to pay more for such quills? Especially if it's an official Harry Potter Enchanted Quill?"

Mrs. Tonks stared at her, then cleared her throat, "Yes, they definitely would. And the teachers would bless you for it."

"Then I think we need to visit _Amanuensis_, don't you?"

"First, though," her solicitor said, "we need to visit Truckle's Trunks and inform him of your hiring me as your representative, and then into Gringotts to inform them of these contracts."

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

"I own a London Penthouse?" Harri exclaimed, startled. Her solicitor had just paid for her entire year's salary, as far as Harri was concerned. Harri had mentioned that she had Griphook setting up an independent vault and Mrs. Tonks had immediately asked to see that Goblin upon entering the bank. After a brief conversation he, in turn, had taken them to see another Goblin, Slicehand, who had been most displeased to learn that Harri had given Griphook control of a new Potter vault. Grumbling, he had handed the solicitor a list of Potter House vaults and properties under his management, as well as a couple of other documents.

"Yes, Harriet, you do. As well as a Chateau in Switzerland, a second Chateau and vineyard in France, a house and land in Scotland, several farms in various countries, an unoccupied building in Hogsmeade, and the land that had held the former main house for the House of Potter in Britain." She examined the next parchment.

"And this is all very confusing. On these documents you are still considered a male despite your female appearance."

"I am a female; it's not just an appearance."

"Yes, yes, I understand that, but according to these you are a male. That means, under British Peerage and Wizarding Law, you are a Lord."

Harri burst out laughing, "You mean people have to address me as 'Lord Potter' even though they can clearly _see_ I'm a girl?"

Distracted by what she was reading, Tonks replied, "Yes, quite."

Harri was quiet for a few moments, whatever the solicitor was reading it required her concentration.

Tonks looked up at the Goblin, "We need the ring, please."

The Goblin opened a drawer and withdrew a box. He walked around his desk and handed the box to Harri. Engraved on top of the wooden box was a shield with two five-point emblems, separated from a third emblem by a horizontal bar with 17 smaller designs in it. The smaller designs looked almost like a tall stylized-cross, wearing a dress. Supporting the shield on either side was a lion, standing on its rear feet, mouth open in a roar facing the other lion. Atop the shield was a helmet while below it was engraved "Potter." Opening the box revealed a gold ring with the same design, with a black stone for the shield and inlaid white designs while the bar was white with black designs.

Harri gingerly took out the ring and looked at the Goblin. He answered her unasked question, "Your third finger on your left hand."

She slid the ring in place. At first, it was much too large, but as she slid it on it got smaller until it fit her perfectly. For a moment, she thought the lions on the ring had turned to look at her.

She looked up at Mrs. Tonks to see her release a relieved sigh. She had been holding her breath?

Harri frowned. "What would have happened if I wasn't Harry Potter?" she asked suspiciously.

Smiling, and showing an inordinate amount of teeth, the Goblin answered, "You'd be dead."

Jesus! These people had been prepared to see her die! She stared at them, appalled. Then she smirked, "Told you I was Harry."

"Harriet," Solicitor Tonks said, "You have a Peerage, you are a Lord. That means you are an adult as far as wizard law is concerned. You are an emancipated child, that is, a child who has all the rights and responsibilities of an adult. Prior to today, if you had a Wizard Guardian, that guardian would have charge of your life, just as your Muggle Guardians have charge of your muggle life. While the muggle law still sees you as an underage child, wizarding law sees you as an adult and you can do anything an adult could do. Get married, get sent to Azkaban Prison, sign contracts, whatever.

"You don't see what that means right now, but I'll explain things as they come up. For example, that contract you signed with Truckle's Trunks wasn't really a contract until you retained me as your legal representative, minors cannot sign contracts. When I counter-signed that document at Truckle's Trunks it became a valid legal document. Putting on that ring changed that, you no longer require a Guardian's permission, nor an adult to co-sign for anything.

"I suggested we come here first to find your Wizard Guardian, but there don't appear to be any records of such here. I'll try to see what I can find at the Ministry, but this is highly unusual, and someone is going to get in a lot of trouble."

They talked for a while longer about her new status and her properties, and how to keep it all a secret.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Madam Quincy studied them carefully. Thankfully, the shop was currently empty. Her busy time was usually early morning to lunch, or late afternoon, the middle afternoon was pretty much lifeless. Business would pick up at about four, or so she had said.

At her solicitor's insistence, Harri had worn a hooded cloak that hid her face while they were on the street. Once in the store, she had tossed back the hood to reveal her exposed scar, wild hair, and black-frame glasses, fitting the picture in Truckle's Trunks store window. No one could tell she was a girl.

"Three types of enchanted quills for students, you say." Harri nodded. "Named after the years, First, Second, and Third." Harri nodded again. "Called The Harry Potter Enchanted Quills."

"That sums it up nicely, Madam Quincy," Harri said at her politest. "The first quill is just a basic always-full-of-ink, make it just a sickle more in cost than a standard quill with re-inking. The next one up add a spell for no splitting or breaking and no spills or blotches, with an increase in price to match. For the third one add spells for perfect letters and lines. Each time we add a spell we increase the price. If we only put my name on them, we would make money, by adding these spells we make the quills uniquely mine. At least until your competition catches on, and by then we'll have the recognition for quality quills with an extremely well-known name. I suggest we start with just the three basic quills this year. Next year we add "Fourth Year" quill that lets you insert, delete, and change letters, and then each year release another one with more features to always stay ahead of the competition."

The shopkeeper looked over to Solicitor Tonks, "And you already have the same sort of deal with Truckle's Trunks."

"We just left there a short while ago to confirm some paperwork. Mr. Truckle has been quite pleased with the additional sales he's had. He specifically said he's already surpassed his sales for last year's entire season. With three weeks left in this season."

Harri looked around the little shop. "Do you have a shop in Hogsmeade?" Andromeda had told her about the small village and its local distance to Hogwarts.

The storekeeper shook her head, "Can't afford the additional rent and cost of a clerk there."

The solicitor looked at Harri, clearly wondering what she was up to.

The businesspeople Harri had overheard in the hotel suite, when they were sitting around shooting the breeze, had repeated often that location and timing were everything. And being walking distance to Hogwarts meant the students could easily get there and back, without having to wait until school breaks. This, in turn, meant more sales of her quills as students saw their friends using them and wanted one as soon as possible. Harri expected Christmas sales to be significant.

"What would you say to making me your silent partner in exchange for free rent in Hogsmeade while I'm going to school there?"

Both older women stared at the little girl. Harri looked up at Tonks, "Well, you did say that I had a vacant building there. Surely it has enough room for a shop like this." She turned back to the storekeeper. "I'll split the expenses of a new clerk with you for the first year, and provide the funding for stocking it. If we can't make enough the first year to make this work, we'll just fall back to selling my quills here, exclusively through you."

After another half hour of discussion, Harri and her solicitor left with a signed contract and a promise that the quills Harri had already purchased would be enchanted by the weekend. The shopkeeper would also provide three sets of all three Years as samples to show students. She hustled into the back of her shop with Harri's book as they were leaving.

Andromeda had disapparated, which she had explained before leaving, directly to her office, leaving Harri to walk back to the Leaky Cauldron. On the way, Harri had seriously considered not returning to the Dursley's, that London Penthouse sounded _awfully_ tempting. Somehow, though, she could not bring herself to do that. She had to return. No matter how unpleasant it was, she could not simply leave. She fought with herself all through her dinner, knowing the Dursleys were not going to give her all that large of a dinner, they still begrudged feeding her at all. But she couldn't do it. Besides, she had left her trunk, and mum and dad, at the house so she had to return, if only to get those.

It was with a heavy heart, and a dread for the next three weeks, that she summoned The Knight Bus. Well, at least she could read her new wizarding books, although that stuff about some wizards and witches being able to change form, being called animagi if they could do that, was worrisome. It unnerved her to realize that a man or woman could sneak into her room without her having the faintest chance of noticing them because they were an animal or insect. She had enough problems with TFS and Dudley sneaking in at night or early morning.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

_**Author's Note:**__ Throughout history Nobility Peerage has been hereditary, and is bestowed on the death of the previous title-holder, regardless of the age of the heir (remember all the "child kings" and "child emperors" there are in history). There is none of this "He gets his title when he turns seventeen" crap you see in some fanfics. You are the Heir to a title until the title-holder dies, then you are the title-holder. Otherwise there would be a power vacuum as the title is somehow "out there" without being assigned to anyone — "I need to see the Baron!" "Sorry, there is no Baron, he isn't old enough yet. Would you like a chocolate while you wait for three years?" Similarly, on inheritances, in the case of a title holder you get full access immediately. In cases where where young children are concerned, sometimes a regent is appointed, always someone in the family. Strangers need not apply! For someone not of the family to become regent is, in effect, bestowing the title upon them and allowing them to rob the Heir of his/her money and property._


	4. Train to Troubles

_Note: 9/18/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**4\. Train to Troubles**

Harri was disgusted. Stupid wizards probably thought they were being clever, pulling one over on the Muggles by putting the entrance in a public place. TFS had left her staring at platforms nine and ten and the blank spot in-between. And she was nervous. Would this really work?

It had sounded simple when Mrs. Tonks, who had been kind enough to explain how the hidden platform worked, said all she had to do was walk into the wall. Poor Hagrid had been too flummoxed by the end of his day with her to properly explain anything. She was kinda surprised he had made it home without a problem. Then again, maybe he hadn't and she simply hadn't heard.

She was about to steer her trolley towards the wall and blindly hope she wasn't about to make a fool of herself when she heard someone behind her say, "— packed with Muggles, of course —" She glanced over and saw a family with the reddest hair she had ever seen. There were four boys, all pushing trolleys with trunks — one even had an owl — and a woman, obviously their mother, holding the hand of a girl the same size as Harri. "Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped the small redheaded girl, "Mom, can't I go. . . ."

Was the woman an imbecile? Three of the boys were clearly older students. She had to have been here at least three times before and she couldn't remember a simple thing like a platform number?

Harri waited patiently for them to move out of her way. After much bickering, two of the boys who looked to be twins and were taking advantage of that to confuse their mother, finally started towards the wall. Harri watched intently, but then a crowd of people pushed by and suddenly they weren't there. And had admirably demonstrated what needed to be done, no crashing of trolleys into a solid wall. The rest of the family soon followed, a convenient crowd always blocking anyone's view of the wall. Harri waited a moment for them to move on the other side of the wall, then pushed her trolley into the wall, half expecting a _bang!_ as she crashed into it instead of going through. But, to her relief, she hit nothing, not even a red-haired kid on the other side.

Just like The Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, she felt like she had traveled back to Victorian England. The massive steam engine, a beautiful piece of work and art, was captivating in and of itself. On the front was a metal sign that read _Hogwart Express_, below that it said _#5972_. She could have spent hours admiring the antique steam engine and its cars.

But the people were just as amazing in their robes and dress coats. The red-headed family was now blocking the entrance to one of the cars, so Harri steered her trolley a bit further down to where it was less crowded. There were cats running around, owls were flitting everywhere, people chatting, it was quite mad. And Harri reveled in it. The Dursleys would have hated it. Well, Dudley wouldn't have, it would have just scared him. For all his bluster, the boy was quite timid about new situations.

The train was rather full, kids were hanging out windows to talk to their families, or yell at friends as they went by. Harri could hear a few arguments about who was sitting where coming from some of the compartments. She passed a kid just as he was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad. . . ." "Oh, Neville," an old woman with a truly bizarre hat beside him sighed. Further along a dark-skinned kid had just opened a large box and a long, hairy, insect leg poked out to the squeal of several girls.

Harri reached the next-to-last car and stopped there. Hedwig was in her bedroom, inside the trunk. She had considered shrinking the trunk, but didn't know if that would be safe for the owl. Hence the trolley and all. She slid the brass bird up, activating the feather-weight charm. Then she grabbed the front handle and lifted the trunk. It really did only weigh five pounds, but it being bigger than she was, in all dimensions, it was still awkward. She ended up just picking it up and balancing it on her head as she went up the train steps. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed a few people staring at her as she did that.

They were probably wondering how such a small girl as her could lift what had to be a fifty-pound trunk without using magic! She giggled. Once word got out that all Harry Potter Trunks had a feather-weight charm built-in, her method of carrying the trunk would be all the rage. Or, now that she thought about that red-haired family's daughter, maybe they thought she was too young to be a student.

The first compartment, amazingly, was empty. Harri tossed her trunk on the rack overhead, facing forward by the window. Her name was upside down.

She was wearing her shoulder bag over her mid-thigh white summer dress, so she had easy access to her books and money. She flicked her wrist. Yep, her wand was where it was supposed to be. She put it back. She didn't have the hang of doing it one-handed, but was making progress. She was sure that by the end of the year it would be second nature to her.

She opened the window and leaned out to watch whatever was happening. The redheaded family had moved all the way back to her car, for some reason, and they were all still bickering. Harri felt herself tearing up. One of them, Ron his mother called him, had something on his nose that she tried to wipe off, embarrassing him immensely. What would it be like to have a family like that? None of the hurtful language she had grown up with, nobody had called the little girl _whore, slut,_ or _bitch_ once, not even in jest. She half-closed her eyes and pretended, briefly, that she was in that family and they were bickering good-naturedly with her.

A whistle sounded. The family suddenly got serious and trunks and boys fairly flew up the steps. The train started to move and the little girl chased it waving, laughing, crying, saying goodbye to all her brothers. Harri would have given everything she had, the vaults, the houses, the gold coins, all of it to be that little girl instead of who she was. Tears were streaming from her eyes at this point. In only a few moments houses were flying by the train.

The door to the compartment slid open. "Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full," she heard from behind her. She surreptitiously wiped her eyes, closed the window, and turned around. It was one of the redheaded kids, Ron his mother had called him. He still had a black mark on his nose. Saying the other compartments were full was probably a lie; the ones further in the car were probably just as empty as this one, or just filling up. In addition, there still was the last car. He was probably just being lazy. "Sure," she said, "make yourself at home." Maybe she could get him to talk about his family.

He was struggling to lift his trunk up to the rack when his twin brothers made an appearance. "Aw, would ickle Ronniekins. . ." started one.

". . .like some help?" finished the other.

Ron turned and glared at his two brothers. If looks could kill. . . but they can't. God knows, Harri had tried often enough.

The two boys laughed and stepped into the compartment, pushing Ron further into the compartment where he sat down by the window, choosing the opposite bench from her. With a quick series of heave-hoes they put his trunk, and theirs, up on the racks. The twins turned to look at her.

"Well, hello beautiful," said the closest twin.

"I think we saw you. . ." said the other.

". . . outside Platform. . ."

". . . 9 and 3/4."

"I'm Fred Weasley," said the closest twin.

"I'm George Weasley,"

"And this is Ron Weasley," they chorused, pointing at their sulking brother.

She giggled, they were funny. Maybe they could be friends. "Hi, I'm Harriet, Harriet Potter. My friends call me Harri." She waved, somewhat shyly.

"Harry Potter?" The twins looked at each other. "Nah, couldn't be," said Fred.

"The picture in _The Daily Prophet_ was a guy," agreed George.

"He was wearing glasses."

"And the scar, don't forget the scar."

"But a fabulous prank. . ."

". . . if it were true."

They grinned evilly at each other, then turned to her, "Nice to meet you, Harri Potter," they said in unison, bowing.

Harri smiled. On her third trip to Diagon Alley, to pick up her quills and wander through the bookstore, and do a bit of exploring, she had found an Oculist's shop. After determining that he could only do a little bit to improve her vision at her current age, leaving her stuck with glasses, he had fixed them so they gave perfect vision and automatically adjusted to her changing eyesight as she grew. Then he had added runes to them, along around the rims and temples, so she could see in the dark. He had also made them unbreakable, although he had explained there were certain spells and situations the glasses could not survive intact. At her request, he had fixed them so they were invisible while she was wearing them, unless she wanted them visible. Finally, he had set them so they couldn't fall off her face by accident and gave them a comfort charm with runes so she could wear them in her sleep without discomfort. It had cost almost twenty galleons.

And her hair hide the scar quite nicely, thank you very much.

"Cor!" Ron exclaimed; he had been ignoring his brothers as he apparently usually did at home. He had watched his brothers put up the trunks and had been looking at hers. "Is _that_ a Harry Potter Trunk?"

Harri grinned; word must be getting around, "Yep."

"I read all about them in _The Daily Prophet_, they've got smashing enchantments," Ron said.

_The Daily Prophet_, again. She wondered if that was a newspaper the wizards read, if so, Ben must have put an ad in it. Whatever it was, it clearly worked! Should she subscribe? She giggled at the thought, a picture of her with a paper in front of her face at the breakfast table, like TFS, grumpily complaining about how the food hadn't been prepared to her satisfaction and the world was going to hell in a hand-basket.

"Which Year. . ." said Fred.

". . . is it?" finished George. Both were examining the markings.

"Sixth Year."

"Sixth Year?" chorused the twins.

"That's a. . . ," exclaimed George.

". . . small house!" finished Fred.

Ron stared at her, wide-eyed. "Blimey! Are you rich?"

"May we. . ." started Fred.

". . . take a look?" finished his twin.

She shrugged, "Sure, why not." She stepped back up on the bench and grabbed the handle.

"We'll get that," chorused the twins, stepping closer.

"No need," she responded, stretching up to easily lift and swing the trunk around, "All Harry Potter Enchanted Trunks have a feather-weight charm."

She jumped down from the seat and set the trunk upright on the floor beside her. She noticed that Ron, sitting opposite her as she stretched up to grab the trunk, was blushing beet-red some reason.

His brothers, though, obviously knew because they burst out laughing after looking back and forth between her and Ron.

"Look, George, little Ronnikins is already getting an education," said Fred.

"They grow up so fast once they leave the home," retorted George, wiping an imaginary tear form his right eye.

"Belt off you two," yelled Ron, turning even redder, if that were possible, and standing up to face them.

The twins ignored him, and continued to bait and torment their brother as Harri leaned on her trunk. Real siblings, she sighed to herself. She would never dream of such banter between her and Dudley. He would have started swinging his fists at the first slight, or better, thrown something heavy.

"I thought," she interrupted them lightly, "you wanted to see the trunk?"

"Oh, yes, if you please," said Fred.

"We would be forever in your debt if you allowed us a peek." George added.

They were being exceedingly polite to her. Ron flung himself back on his seat, face blotchy-red as if he were about to cry in frustration.

She pushed the latch and opened the trunk, the thinner left panel automatically turning itself into a door. The twins leaned closer, "Blimey," they breathed in unison. She slipped into salesman mode. She had practiced this at home several times to come up with the best spiel that sounded natural while subtly pushing the product.

"It has four drawers, a small one at the top for jewelry, quills, stuff like that, and a deep one at the bottom for robes and cloaks. On top of the bottom drawer is my bookshelf. I keep my schoolbooks in my shoulder bag with me and put my reference books here.

"The really neat feature, though, is this," and she pointed to the dial at the side of the door. "I just turn it to. . . bedroom," which she did, "And when I open the door," she turned the door lever, opening the door inward so it didn't take up any extra space in the compartment, "there's my bedroom!" Its walls were a pleasant light yellow. A very large white four-poster canopy bed with light pink curtains and top was against the far wall. End tables were on either side and a dresser was against the left wall beside a full-length, very wide mirror. A cream-coloured carpet covered the floor. The three boys took a quick look. "Blast! That's bigger than our sitting-room," whispered Ron.

She closed the door and turned the dial, "And this is my Potion's Room," she said, opening the door again.

"Crikey, Snape would go potty to see a student with one of these!" Fred said in awe.

"You said it, Fred, Look at this place!"

They wandered in admiring the potions table and equipment stored around the room. Ron's eyes were like saucers they were so wide in surprise. "It has two cauldron pot cookers!" she heard one of the twins exclaim.

Harri let them look around for a minute, "The best part is that every room can be reached from inside, look." She pointed back at door. The wall had three doors across it; above each was legend: Kitchen, Bathroom, and Exit. "The closet is off the bedroom and the kitchen and bathroom are available from the bedroom and this room."

"Fred," George said softly.

"We have to get one of these," continued Fred.

"Imagine, a safe and convenient place to design our pranks," finished George. They stared at each other, obviously plotting something. They nodded in unison, whispering, "Snogging!"

"Mum is going to have kittens if you two get in anymore trouble," said Ron, shuddering. "And where would you get the galleons for something like this, it costs a fortune you don't have. We could barely afford to kit my stuff!"

"Who would have thought that Ronniekins," started Fred.

"Would be the one . . . ,"

". . . to try crush our dreams," finished Fred.

They looked at each other, "Nah!" And laughed.

Harri ushered them all back into the train.

After thanking her profusely, the twins turned to Ron, "Listen, we're going down to the middle of the train — Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron as he slumped back onto his seat.

The twins slid the door shut behind them.

Harri latched the trunk closed and placed it back on the overhead rack.

When she turned around and sat, she noticed Ron had a bright-red face again.

"Are you okay, Ron?"

"I'm fine, smashing, even," he replied hurriedly, turning redder, and looked out the window to the scenery.

"Is everyone in your family wizards?" asked Harri.

"Er — yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him." Did she need an accountant? She would have to ask Mrs. Tonks.

"You must know loads of magic already," said Harri, envisioning the gap between her seven spells and the dozens and dozens he must know.

"Not really. Mum insisted we learn our magic at Hogwarts, she said it wasn't good to use magic before your magical core was ready. You could strain and damage it," said Ron. "Fred and George told me a lot of stuff, but I'm sure all of its dodgy at best. They're always pulling pranks, you never know what's what with them. How about you?"

Harri sighed. "I grew up knowing nothing about magic. My aunt and uncle, knew, though. They're horrible, they kept it all from me. Lies, lies, and more lies. They never told me my mum and dad were wizards. They died when I was a baby. I've got a cousin, he's not too bad, but he used to beat me up a lot when I was smaller. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Blimey, that's bollocks." He stared at her a moment. "I've got five brothers." For some reason, this made him gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch."

His mother must have a severe memory problem. She had made the trip to King's Cross twice a year, minimum, for at least seven years, and she _still_ couldn't remember the platform number?

Ron continued, "Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat that he's had for years."

"I never got anything new, either, until I got my Hogwarts letter," Harri said as Ron pulled a fat sleeping gray rat out of his jacket pocket.

"This is Scabbers, he's useless and he sleeps all the time. Percy got an Owl, but we couldn't afford. . . ." Ron stopped talking and he blushed again. He dropped the rat back into his pocket. He looked out the window for a while, then turned back to Harriet. "If you never got anything new, where'd you get the trunk?"

So, Harri told him about Hagrid coming to get her. She decided not to mention her vault and just said that Hagrid had paid for everything for her, which _was_ true, he had just used _her_ money. She implied that the trunk and Hedwig were gifts from Hagrid. She didn't tell him about the confusion over her gender and being the famous Harry Potter. She, likewise, didn't mention her Lord's Ring and what that entailed. She ended by saying that he gave her a small bag of Galleons when they left Diagon Alley, not mentioning that he had only been carrying her Gringotts bag for her. She might have implied that Hagrid was a distant relation.

Then she talked about her school, and what it was like to be ignored by everyone there because Dudley had to get the limelight, and how she had been punished anytime she did better than he did. She ended with, "I bet I'll be the worst in class, I know nothing about magic, just three spells taught to me by my. . . a nice lady I met at lunch when I was in Diagon Alley, plus a few others I read about but have never had a chance to use." Ron didn't seem to notice her pause.

"Rubbish." Ron said scornfully, "Loads of people come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While all this had been going on, the train had moved into the countryside. They watched the trees, houses, and villages flicker by. Harri made a quick trip to the loo, her third since the morning, to clean herself a bit and make sure she wasn't leaking goo on the seats. That would be embarrassing and lead to questions she would not want to answer! Ron merely nodded at her when she returned.

Harri sighed as her stomach growled loudly. Soon, though, there came a clatter from the passageway and their door slid open to reveal a woman, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harri jumped to her feet, Uncle Vernon hadn't given her anything to eat for breakfast and Dudley had forgotten to bring her anything, making her ravenous. With gold and silver in her shoulder bag, she was ready to buy as many candy bars and stuff as she could stomach, and then some.

However, she recognized nothing on the cart; they all had strange names, like _Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Licorice Wands_, and more. Shrugging, she bought a bunch of everything including some drinks. The total came to thirteen sickles, five knuts.

Ron stared enviously as Harriet dumped her stash on the seat, "You must be hungry."

"Starving," Harri said around a mouthful of pastry she had torn open before even sitting, "no breakfast. Almost no dinner yesterday."

Ron had an unwrapped package with four large lumpy sandwiches inside on his lap. He glumly pulled one apart, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

Harri tossed him an unopened pastry, "Trade ya," and snatched a sandwich.

"You don' want one of these, they're all dry," Ron objected.

"'oo la'e," Harri said around a mouthful of sandwich. Ron shrugged and tore open the pastry. Dry the sandwich might have been, but his _mother_ had made it _for him_. How could he _not_ want it, she wondered. Plus, she had purchased two bottles of something call Pumpkin Juice and two others of lemonade. Those would take care of any dryness.

They shared a companionable silence broken only by sounds of munching. Harri held up a package, "These don't really have frogs in them, do they?" She wouldn't be surprised if they did, she had heard they ate frog's legs in France, so. . . .

"Naw, they're chocolate, but let me know what card is in it, will ya?"

"What?"

Ron explained about the collectable cards in the packages, and his interest in them. Harri's card was Dumbledore. She stared at the card. A kindly old man wearing half-moon glasses stared back. According to Hagrid this was the man who had abandoned Harri to the Dursleys. The Headmaster had silver hair and a beard so long that it could be tucked into his belt. He had a very long and crooked nose that looked as if it had been broken at least twice. His eyes were a brilliant, soul-piercing shade of blue, and twinkled with kindness and mischief.

Harri had mixed feelings about him. He looked trustworthy, but she had met several "kindly old men" in the hotel suite over the years, so she knew what a façade that could be. She decided she would reserve judgment until she met him and had a chance to see and hear what he was really like.

No longer starving, the two worked their way through the sweets, Ron pointing out his favorites, as the landscape outside their window slowly changed to more farms and fewer houses.

There was a knock on their compartment door and a boy, face splotchy-red and almost in tears, came in. Harri remembered seeing him back at the station.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Why don't you just summon 'im with _Accio_?" Harri asked. "And then use a sticking Charm to make 'im stay put?"

They both looked at her, startled.

"Akcheeoh?" Ron asked, finally.

Harri frowned. Had neither of them even looked at any spell books before? "Sure, like this," She popped out her wand, causing both boys to blink at her wand's sudden appearance in her hand, and started to wave it. "Wait," she said and put down her hand, "what's his name and what does he look like?"

"A frog?" hazarded Ron.

She frowned at him, and turned to the other boy "Is he small, big, huge? Is he light green, dark green, puke green, bile green, or pink? Does he have any special markings or a name?" Were these kids really from magic-using families?

"Trevor, his name is Trevor," the new boy said hesitantly, "Dark green, about this big 'round," he made a medium-sized circle with his fingers, "and he has a white belly."

Harri nodded, pictured a dark-green white-bellied, medium sized toad in her mind, lifted her wand, and waved it in the pattern the book told while saying "AK-see-oh Trevor the Toad!"

The two boys stared at her.

"Sit down, leave the door open," she ordered the boy, "If he's on the train he'll get here in a moment."

The boy sat immediately beside the door, still looking at her.

"I'm Harriet Potter, my friends call me Harri. He's," she pointed at Ron who had gone back to eating candy, "Ron Weasley. He has five brothers and a sister."

The boy blinked at this information, "Um, I'm Neville Longbottom."

There was a noise from the floor outside their compartment and a moment later a dark-green toad slid backwards over to Harri. "Trevor!" exclaimed the slightly pudgy boy.

Harriet picked Trevor up and looked at him. "You shouldn't run off like that," she scolded the toad, tapping him on his nose with her finger, "You're scaring Neville and making him look like a klutz to his fellow wizards. That's not nice, you're supposed to support him." She handed the toad to Neville, who took him gratefully.

Ron stared at her, frowning, "He really doesn't understand you, you know."

Harri looked over at him. "Nonsense, animals understand a lot more than you think. The snakes and frogs at home, when I find one while gardening, always listen to me when I warn them to stay away from Dudley. Not to mention what Aunt 'Tunia would do to one if she found one in her precious yard. They've even told me a few things I didn't know."

Ron stared at her wide-eyed. "You're barmy," he said, before attacking opening and devouring another of her sweets. Conversations with snakes and toads might have been a bit dull — their interest primarily being in the weather and finding food — but at least they weren't insulting! On the other hand, he hadn't thrown anything, called her vile names, or hit her.

Neville was still fussing over Trevor when Harri realized a bushy-haired girl with large front teeth was standing in the door to their compartment. "Did you do that?" she demanded rather bossily. "Was it _Accio_? I saw that spell in my book _101 of the Most Useful Simple Spells_ but I haven't tried it yet. Was it hard to learn? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard — I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Harri blinked, bemused. Was the girl on a sugar high? Harri hadn't even seen her take a breath. And, she had memorized the course books, _of course_? And if anyone should be on a sugar high, it should be Ron as he must have eaten at least a pound of it in all the sweets Harri had bought. He hadn't even touched his sandwiches. Harri had eaten one, which was all she could eat, and then only nibbled at the candies.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he muttered around a mouthful of something.

"I-I'm Neville Longbottom," Neville said looking up from putting his toad back in his pocket.

"I'm Harriet Potter, Harri to my friends," she said.

Hermione looked at Harri for a moment, blinking, "Are you related to the Harry Potter mentioned in _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century,_ _Modern Magical History_, and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_? I read them all and they were quite interesting but they contradicted each other about exactly what happened, and where Harry Potter went afterwards. I think they were just guessing because the only one who knows is Harry Potter and he was probably too little at the time to remember what happened. And no one has seen or talked with him since then so even if he could remember and talk about it how would they have managed to get to him to ask? What do you think?"

Harri blinked, all those wizarding history books mentioned her? "Uh, I'm not his sister or cousin, or anything like that," she almost mentioned her parents, but stopped herself in time. "I never heard of him until Hagrid came to get me."

"Oh, do you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor — brave at heart, don't you know — it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it." She chewed her lip for a moment, thinking. "I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad — wit and learning, I love to read. I don't think I'd like Slytherin — I'm not all that cunning or ambitious to be a leader."

"Sneaky, underhanded, vicious bullies you mean," Harri heard Ron mutter.

"Hufflepuff," the loquacious girl continued, "Loyal and hard-working is good, but I dare say I wouldn't want to be known by those only," She stopped and looked at them, obviously expecting a reply.

Harri opened her mouth, but Neville beat her to it.

"I-I expect I'll end up in Hufflepuff. Both m-my parents were in Gryffindor, but I-I'm not very brave." He fell silent and seemed lost in thought for a moment.

Ron filled the silence as he proudly proclaimed, "Oh, I'm going into Gryffindor, both my parents and all my brothers are in Gryffindor." He looked at them a moment, then his smile faded a bit, and in a lower voice he said, "Well, at least I hope I do, I can't imagine what mum would say if I didn't!" He shuddered.

That left Harri. "My parents were in Gryffindor as well, but I have no idea where I'll end up. Maybe we can all get together in Gryffindor, I think I'd like that."

Hermione jumped up, "I think I'll ask the conductor when we'll arrive at Hogwarts, it seems like we've been on this train for a long time and it's already three o'clock. By the way," here she looked at Ron, "You've got some dirt on your nose."

No sooner was she out the door when Ron mumbled, "Blimey! What a know-it-all waffler."

"Want a chocolate frog, Neville?" Harri asked.

A few minutes later, Ron asked, "What's your Quidditch team, Harri?"

"Quidditch? What's that?"

Appalled at her ignorance of his favorite passion, Ron launched into a detailed description of the game. Harri had never been one to play sports — always being the last one chosen, or even ignored, in school had killed that interest, but this Quidditch, flying broomsticks and dodging balls, sounded fascinating. Neville even jumped in and a heated discussion erupted as to which team was going to win this season, the Appleby Arrows or the Chudley Cannons.

They had just concluded that they would have to wait for the end of the season when the compartment door slid open and three boys entered. Two boys stood on either side of the bleach-bottle blonde Harri had seen in Diagon Alley last month. They tried to look mean and tough, but only managed to look constipated. "Is it true?" the middle one demanded. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment."

Harri looked up at him from her seat. Ron and Neville looked at her. "Well," she said, "I'm Harriet Potter and my friends call me Harri."

"What a cock-up," the boy said, disgusted, "I told you it was just a prank from those Weasley prats." He was already losing points with Harri with that attitude. "Any way, I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. And this," he pointed to his left, "is Crabbe," he pointed to his right, "and this is Goyle." Harri noticed he didn't bother with their first names.

At the mention of Draco, Harri heard a muffled snort from Ron. Apparently, so did Draco. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

"Hey," protested Ron, starting to his feet.

Harri's mind was made up at this point — Malfoy was a chief bully, with smaller bullies following him. Normally, she could see a fight brewing from a mile away and escape, but this one was mere feet away. She was worried, she knew nothing about wizard fights and a silly thing called Jelly Legs was the only jinx she could remember on the spot. She had no idea if it would work. After all, she couldn't ask Dudley to let her try it on him. Even if he had agreed, TFS would have had a coronary, and then beaten her half to death for doing it, bargain or not. And imagine the mess she would have been in if she hadn't been able to reverse it!

"Clear off," Ron ordered.

"Oh, and you're going to make us?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you leave now," said Harri as she, too, stood. Harri was surprised at how steady her voice was, the three boys at the door were much bigger than the three in the compartment, and Harri wasn't sure if Neville would do anything. Her wand slipped into her hand, almost unnoticed by her.

"What if we don't want to leave? You seem to have some treats left. Perhaps if you give them to us we'll take our leave."

Taking the hint from Draco, Crabbe reached for the Chocolate Frogs on the seat, and Ron started forward. Suddenly Crabbe let out a pained yell.

Ron's rat Scabbers had sunk his sharp little teeth sunk deep into Crabbe's finger! Screaming he swung his arm around trying to dislodge the rat, almost hitting his friends with his hand or the swinging rat. Goyle and Draco backpedaled out the door as Harri, Neville, and Ron stepped back towards the compartment window, watching in amazement. Finally, the rat flew off and smacked hard into the closed window. Harri thought it was lucky she had lowered the window earlier in their trip, otherwise they would be missing one rat.

With a frightened look at the candy pile, Crabbe quickly followed his friends out the door. _What_? Harri thought, _Did he think there was another rat hiding in there?_ Neville shoved the door closed behind him, only for it to fly open a moment later. It was Hermione, "What happened in here? I could hear someone yelling from the next car," she demanded, looking at the scattered candy and Ron picking up his rat. "Have you been fighting? Fighting's not allowed on the train. You'll get in trouble. And they might even expel you!" This last appeared to terrify her.

"I think he killed my rat," declared Ron. Then, a moment later, he said, "No, I think the little bugger's gone back to sleep! Stupid Malfoy. Cor! I've never seen Scabbers do anything like that, wait'll mum and day hear about how he defended me." He turned to face Hermione, "And we _weren't_ fighting, Scabbers was!"

"You've heard of the Malfoys?" Harri asked.

"Who hasn't?" Ron said, "Oh, right, neither of you have," he glanced over at Harri and Hermione. "Well, ya see, You-Know-Who, he had lots of followers, they were called Death Eaters." Harri remembered reading about that, so she nodded in encouragingly. "Well, one of the biggest of the lot was Malfoy, he was one of the first to join up, but after You-Know-Who disappeared, he claimed it was all a mistake, that he had been bespelled to join and had no choice. My dad says that's a load of rubbish, that he didn't need to be bespelled to help You-Know-Who. Malfoy was a Slytherin just like You-Know-Who, and they're thick as thieves."

Something was bothering Harri. The encounter with Draco and his squad, and Ron's comments about being bespelled, had triggered a suspicion. Ever since she had read about some wizards being able to transform into animals, the thought of a wizard sneaking into her room as an apparently harmless animal had terrified her. She had enough unwelcome visitors in her room at home without having to worry about sneaky wizards as well. "Ron," she said softly, "How long have you had that rat?"

"Percy got him years ago," Ron shrugged his shoulders, clearly uninterested as he slipped the sleeping rat back into his jacket. "I've seen 'im ever since I can remember. Wonder when he got out of my pocket?"

"Would you put him on the seat for a moment? I want to try a spell. It won't hurt him; I've practiced this spell like a hundred times."

Eyeing her curiously, he pulled the rat back out of his pocket and gingerly laid him down. "Sure, if you want."

"Oh, you're going to do a spell?" Hermione sat beside Neville and stared intently. "What's it called? What's it do?" she asked.

Harri ignored her, concentrating on what she wanted to do. "Move back, Ron."

"Hey, are you sure this spell is safe?"

"If your rat is a rat, yes. If not, then I'm not sure."

"Scabbers not a rat?" Ron stared at the rat, astonished at the thought.

Harri released her wand again, took a deep breath, pictured what she wanted to happen, and cried, "_Manifesto_," while flicking her wand-tip in a quick narrowing spiral at the rat.

To her intense surprise, and everyone else's, the rat started to grow and change before their eyes. A man appeared on the bench seat opposite them.

"Cor!" whispered Ron.

"Oh my god," came from Hermione

Neville just gasped.

"Who is he?" whispered Hermione.

Harri was shaking, her wand wavering around as she pointed it at him. She had to try three times before she could get the words out correctly for the Jelly Legs curse. Her intent was strong, she did _not_ want him getting up and attacking them, but she wasn't sure if the wand movements were correct. Nothing appeared to happen, but then again the man hadn't moved yet. Either he was a very heavy sleeper or Ron had been wrong and Crabbe had knocked out the rat when he hit the window-glass.

"N-Neville?" Harri stuttered, "W-would you get an adult?"

"My brother Percy's a Prefect," Ron whispered, still in shock, "The prefects are in the front car. Get him."

Neville took off at a run.

"I feel like I've seen him before," Hermione added.

Nobody said a word as they waited. Harri kept her wand pointed at the man, although what she would do if he woke up she didn't know. None of her other spells would be of use in this situation, she had already used her one offensive spell, Jelly Legs. An hour later, or at least to them it felt like an hour, Percy bustled into their compartment with Neville trailing, demanding to know what kind of prank this was. Two other prefects followed. Percy stopped dead and stared at the man on the seat. He turned to Ron, "What happened?"

Ron had just finished explaining about how Draco had come in, what Scabbers did, and how Harri had been suspicious of the rat, when Hermione suddenly exclaimed, "I've got it, where's my _History of Hogwarts_ book?" she started rummaging in her bag, triumphantly yelling "HA!" as she pulled it out. "What?" she said, realizing they were all looking at her, "I wanted some light reading in case I got bored."

"Light reading?" Ron echoed, looking at the thick tome and giving her an incredulous look. "You're mental, you are."

They watched as she frantically flipped through the pages. "Aha! Here it is," she held up the book so they all could see as she pointed to a picture. "In the section on famous Hogwarts' heroes, Peter Pettigrew, here's his picture. He's supposed to be dead."

And there he was. The picture was of a younger man. There was no doubt that the man on the bench seat, although he looked a bit ratish, was indeed the man in the picture. Percy studied the picture, then the man on the seat. He pulled out his wand, "_Incarcerous_" he intoned, giving his wand a quick swish. Ropes appeared around the man.

"Robert, tell the driver to warn the Headmaster that we've captured Peter Pettigrew, alive!" He paused, then muttered "If this is really him and not someone under a glamor or using polyjuice."

Word spread like wildfire and there was a constant parade of students visiting their compartment. Percy stood importantly by the window while students took pictures of him and Peter, whom he arranged leaning up on the wall beside the window. Wizards used cameras, Harri saw, and like the world she grew up in, cameras were common. The girl Prefect stayed outside the compartment telling the students to move on and stop blocking the passageway. Robert returned after a while with another prefect, chased the milling students out of the car, and closed the door to the compartment.

Harris cast the revealing spell on Trevor the Toad, with Neville's trembling permission. To everyone's immense relief, nothing happened except Trevor giving an offended, and loud, "Revit!" Harri apologized to the toad distractedly, to both Ron' and Neville's amazement.

Peter started to wake at one point, but Percy knocked him out again with a spell, _Stupify!_ Harri observed closely, and decided to learn _that_ spell, as well as the _incarcerous_ spell, as soon as possible.

Harri saw several owls flapping away from the train while staring out the window thinking over what had happened. Some students, it appeared, could not wait until they arrived at Hogwarts before notifying their parents of the thrilling news regarding Peter, and Harri Potter, the _girl!_

Not soon enough, it was several very quiet hours later, the word came that the train was approaching Hogwarts. Percy, after some badgering by Harriet, had shown them both the _incarcerous_ and _stupefy_ spells, which the four in the compartment had practiced on each other until they got it right, learning _ennervate_ as well. The boys left the compartment to change into the robes, while Harri just opened her trunk and slipped her robe over her dress. No need for privacy for that.

Headmaster Dumbledore, followed by a pale teacher with greasy black hair and a permanent sneer on his face, entered the compartment almost before the train stopped. "Headmaster, Professor Snape," Percy greeted them as they came in. The Headmaster looked over the compartment, his gaze lingering when he reached Harri, but he said nothing to her.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise, to see Peter alive and well," said the Headmaster as he stared at the man intently. "Professor Snape, if you please." Scowling, the teacher levitated the knocked out and bound Pettigrew off the seat, out of the compartment, and off the train.

They could hear the other students congregating outside the train, with voices yelling directions to the different groups. The Headmaster looked at the students in the compartment. "This must be a most interesting story; I look forward to hearing it." He sighed, "The Aurors will want to speak to you all, most likely tomorrow. I will let you know when you will need to meet them, and I will try to schedule it between your classes. I will see you at the feast," he concluded, while looking at Harri, smiling kindly.

As soon as the Headmaster left, they piled out of the compartment. It was dark out so it had been at least seven hours since lunch. They were all starving and nobody wanted to be late to dinner. And Ron still had dirt on his nose.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

**Author's Note:**_ The train left King's Cross Station in London at 11:00AM that morning. On arriving at Hogsmeade, the sky was a deep purple and Harry could not see the trees on either side of the path to the lake. According to the Sunrise/Sunset charts, on September 1, 1991, sunset was at 8:09 PM in Edinburgh Scotland. Given that Hogwarts is built in a valley area and surrounding mountains are part of the landscape, it was probably already in twilight before 7:00 hence the trip from King's Cross Station took around eight hours. Which is weird because the regular Muggle train between King's Cross Station and Edinburgh Scotland takes only four to five hours, according to the website. So, magic makes the train go lots slower?_


	5. Diminishing Expectations

_Note: 2/16/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**5\. Diminishing Expectations**

Meeting Hagrid was fun and she had the feeling that if the light had been better she would have seen him blushing. The boat trip to the castle was fantastic and the Great Hall a delight. Ron's obsessing over fighting a troll had been very amusing. Stumbling around in the dark on the path and the overall tendency on the adults' part to ignore the students' safety and peace of mind was much less so. The ghosts had been startling.

The Great Hall, with its floating candles and starry ceiling had been everything her _Hogwarts_ book had promised. The Sorting Hat's song was interesting and a bit scary as well. It was going to be reading her mind and she wasn't exactly comfortable with that. The only consolation she had was that over the centuries she knew she couldn't be the only one who feared revelation of hidden secrets, meaning there had to be very strong safeguards preventing the Hat from telling anyone what it learned or else nobody would let their children attend the school. Mom's Confidence would handle it.

Finally, it came: "Potter, Harry. . . Harriet!" called Professor McGonagall.

There was a brief moment of silence then almost every student started talking at once, a virtual sea of whispers.

"Did she say _Potter_?"

"Wait, _Harriet_ Potter?"

"Didn't she say _Harry_ Potter?

"That's a _girl_, Harry Potter's a boy!"

"Did she really say _Harriet_ Potter?"

Students, who until now had been more concerned with when the food would arrive and gossiping with their friends about what had happened on the train, suddenly were craning their necks and half standing to get a better look at Harri as she slowly walked over to the stool. She noticed that the pale teacher with the greasy black hair she had seen on the train seemed to be glaring at her as if she offended him by just being alive.

This was just the sort of attention she hated. Only the women teachers at her old school had ever glared at her like that. Whenever it had happened, she had always gotten in trouble. At least this time Dudley wasn't around to complain about her stealing attention from him. She was relieved to reach the stool without tripping or otherwise embarrassing herself.

She put on the hat. For a moment, there was darkness as the hat slipped down over her eyes, and then a small voice started speaking. "Oh, this is unusual. I haven't seen this in a century or more. I hardly ever see one gender switched to the other. Usually, though, it's making the girl a boy for inheritance reasons. But this puts quite a spin on possibilities, good and bad."

_Wait_, thought Harri, _are you saying I really _was_ a boy once?_

"Eh? Oh, yes, it's plain as the nose on your face. Once you were a boy, no doubt about it, but now your magic says you're a girl, so a girl you are."

_Are you saying_, Harriet thought carefully, _that if I didn't have_ magic _I would be a boy?_

"Quite."

_Can I go back to being a boy?_ Harriet carefully asked.

"Only with the aid of a very strong spell, far beyond the magic you have. No spells I know of could do it."

Harriet was too stunned to think anything for several moments.

After waiting a polite amount of time for the conversation to continue, the Sorting Hat returned to what it was doing. "Back to work, right? Oh my, _that_, or rather _those_, hmmm, that explains a lot. Well as I've heard it said, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I wouldn't know myself. You are of two, no three, minds about things aren't you? Hmmm. Oh, I see, _that_ puts Hufflepuff right out, it would be setting the fox in the henhouse for sure! Slytherin, you would do well in Slytherin — ambitious, cunning, independent. . . ."

_In with a bunch of bullies? I think not! Not Slytherin!_ Harri thought, startled at the thought that _she_ would fit in with those bullies. Not Slytherin!

"Slytherin's out then, eh?" said the small voice. "Ah, yes, I see. Heh. Slytherin is out, the Headmaster would be most unhappy for that kind of blood-bath. Hm, let's dig a bit more. You're smart, but Ravenclaw? No, no that's not a good fit, you aren't someone to follow another's lead and knowledge for knowledge's sake doesn't have that special appeal for you. And _those_ would cause a few problems, yes they would. Hmmm."

_Are you going to tell anyone what you find out?_ Harri interrupted, having broken out in a cold sweat at what the Sorting Hat had learned about herself so far.

"What? Oh! No! Definitely no. The founders were very concerned about that. I can't even tell Hogwarts what I find. If I even tried to _hint_ anything I discovered, well, I would be torn apart on the spot and banished forever. I can tell you we've had some very unusual students here before, including a time traveler or two, but more than that I cannot say. Your secrets, and every other student's secrets, are safe with me, my dear."

"Well, carrying on, all things considered, it looks like it better be — GRYFFINDOR"!

The last word was a shout to the entire hall. Harri jerked off the hat; she could feel small drips of sweat running down her back. Scary, very scary, she never wanted to do that again. She walked on unsteady legs to the Gryffindor table, whose students seemed to be of three minds. One group, a very small group comprised mainly of the Weasley twins, and some of their friends, were cheering loudly. Another group, much larger, seemed confused and were clapping politely. The majority seemed to be of the opinion that any Potter, even a girl Potter, was better than no Potter, and they were applauding enthusiastically. Or, perhaps they hadn't heard she was a girl.

The next to last person sorted was Ron and she could tell that he was nervous as he put on the hat. His physical relief at the hat's almost instantaneous shout — Gryffindor — was obvious, and he quickly ran to the table and collapsed beside Harri on the bench seat. As she listened to Percy congratulate his brother, she quickly realized the Prefect wasn't nearly as much fun as his brothers. In fact, he seemed quite taken with himself, almost preening when any of the girl Prefects looked at him, especially the girl Prefect Harri had seen with him on the train.

The ghosts were more than a little strange, and the Gryffindor's ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, definitely creeped her out.

Harri took a moment to study the High Table at the front of the Hall. On an ostentatious throne in the center sat the old bearded man from her collectible card, the one who had come onto the train. There was nothing modest or humble about _that_ throne. A normal chair in the middle of the table would have sufficed, maybe with a fancy tall backing, but that golden monster was a bit much. Did he think he was a King or maybe an Emperor?

Sitting on either side of him in chairs with normal shoulder-high wooden backs were the other teachers, six on each side. One peculiar individual had a purple turban; the pasty-faced teacher with the long greasy black hair who was still glaring at Harri was sitting beside him.

The food was everything Harri could have wished for, varied, filling, delightful, unlimited. Unfortunately, Harri filled up rather quickly and could only look longingly at the deserts when they appeared. She had never had such a fine meal. When no one was looking, she took several of the pastries and stuffed them in one of her robe pockets, wrapped in napkins, of course. She wondered how much she could smuggle into her trunk kitchen freezer pantry before summer.

The dinner conversation was enlightening, and hearing Neville's story of his Uncle Algie left her with a bad taste in her mouth. What was it with abusive uncles? It also gave her a much better understanding of his shyness. The ghost's stories were not nearly as enlightening, but Ron obviously disagreed with that assessment.

She watched Hagrid at the High Table as she listened to her fellow students discussing their parents and if they were muggles or not. She managed to evade the questions about her being Harry Potter by saying she knew for a fact that she was neither his sister nor a cousin, and that she had never heard of him before she got her Hogwarts letter. And she was certainly telling the truth when she said she had never met him.

Hagrid noticed her looking at him and he waved, and then blushed, bringing an even bigger smile to her face.

All-in-all it, was a lovely time in the Great Hall, except for one moment when she had a sharp pain in her forehead. It felt as if Dudley had just hit her, as he had when they were real little and she asked to play with one of his toys. The pain was right on top of her scar. It had happened just as she was looking at the High Table. The professor with the purple turban had leaned over to speak with pasty-face, who was glaring at her, again. The older student she asked said, "Oh? I don't know the Professor in the turban, but the teacher beside him is Professor Snape."

The start-of-term notices were a bit unsettling: avoid the third floor corridor or die? Was he mad? Were they all mad? Who would put something dangerous enough to kill in a school of mischievous, inordinately curious students? And then tell them exactly where to go? Wouldn't it be simpler just to seal the damn corridor off with a temporary wall? Or better yet, not put whatever it was in the castle at all! The Headmaster did introduce the man in the turban, though, telling the students that Professor Quirinus Quirrell would be teaching Defense Against Dark Arts this year.

The walk to their dorms was confusing, what with passages hidden behind paintings and all. She knew she was going to get lost if she tried to do it herself. The poltergeist Peeves was a surprise. Why would they allow a poltergeist to haunt the castle and attack the students? Sure, his pranks were fairly harmless, but still. . . .

Percy chased him off with the threat of calling for one of the ghosts, the one he called the Bloody Baron. Just before leaving, though, Peeves glanced at Harri, and then turned back for a longer look, before racing down the hall, rattling coats of armour as he did so.

Harri thought that the door to the dormitory for the Gryffindor students being _behind_ a portrait that swung out and they had to _climb through_ the round hole behind it was absurd. The wizards were too stupid to make a painting frame that reached the floor? And they were fooling nobody with that ploy; every student in the school would know where the entrances to all the Houses were within a week, two at the most.

The password system was equally silly, How they could expect 200-plus students to keep a password secret for more than five minutes was beyond her. Why not use a simple spell that allowed only a current House student or faculty member to enter? And if he, or she, wanted to bring a friend over from another House, then a sign-in system could be used where the House student was responsible for the visitor's behavior. Stupid Wizards, trying to be clever, and failing.

The seven First Year girls, it turned out, shared a circular room. Each bed was a standard-sized single-bed, about the size of her bed at the Dursleys. Each bed was also a wooden four-post-with-solid-canopy structure, with privacy curtains. To the right of each bed and in front of an arched window was a study desk and stool. On the left was a tall, but not very wide six-drawer dresser. There was a small two-foot gap between the dresser and the next bed's study desk. Harri located her bed simply by finding her trunk at the base of it. The other girls opened their trunks and pulled out pajamas or nightgowns.

Harri moved her trunk over in front of the dresser by her bed and opened it up. She had plenty of room to stand in front of the open trunk without it intruding on the space between her dresser and the next bed's study desk by more than a few inches. While she fiddled with her trunk's placement before setting the sticking charm on it, the other girls changed into their pajamas or nightgowns.

All six girls were excited over everything that had happened, but they spent only a few minutes talking before they started nodding off to sleep. As soon as Harri thought she could do it without attracting their attention, she opened her trunk's second drawer and took out her two hand-made yarn dolls.

With her curtains securely closed, and a _muffliato_ spell in place, she propped her dolls on her pillow and proceeded to tell her mum and dad about her day. She told them about the train station, the train, meeting the Weasleys, Draco and his "thugs," discovering Peter Pettigrew, the wonderful dinner, the strange warning about the third floor corridor, Peeves, and the bizarre path required to go from the Great Hall to their dorm. The most important feature about the whole day, she thought, was her actually making friends.

In her first year at primary school, Dudley had scared everyone into avoiding her, and blaming her as the culprit for anything that went wrong. By her second year the entire class was convinced she was evil incarnate at worst or merely a lying, cheating, back-biting bitch at the best. Thus, all her peers from the neighborhoods served by the school avoided her like the plague. It was an avoidance habit most kept into the higher grades without Dudley's help. And one that they made sure new students learned as well. Her teachers — and for some odd reason her teacher was always a man — with their many "detentions" to keep her after school for "extra work" had also discouraged anyone from befriending her at her old school. What girl wanted to be friends with someone who was _always_ in trouble?

When she finished, she carefully put her mum and dad in their secure drawer, locked it closed, and went to bed.

Harri had a nightmare, not unusual, but the subject matter was. Instead of green lights flashing, screaming, and maniacal laughing, it was about wearing Professor Quirrell's purple talking turban. It was complaining that there had to be a mistake and wondering where the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, was hiding.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Next morning, Harriet took advantage of the fact that TFS couldn't tell her not to take a shower, and took a nice long hot one. Wonderful fluffy towels were in a rack beside each shower stall, much nicer than the ancient and worn towel Aunt 'Petunia insisted she use the few times she was allowed to shower at home. The towels were even nicer than the ones in the hotel. She didn't notice the odd looks she got from a few of the other girls as she went back to her dorm room nude because she didn't have bathrobe. It didn't occur to her to wrap herself in a towel, Auntie threw a fit if she took a towel out of the bathroom at home.

Finding their way back to the Great Hall would have been an adventure for the seven girls, except Jane Yuri, the Gryffindor Girl's Prefect, woke them early enough so they could follow her to the Great Hall. There was a bit of excitement just after they started breakfast as a flock of hundreds of owls flew in to deliver mail and, Harri saw, copies of a newspaper with the banner _The Daily Prophet_.

So it _was_ a newspaper!

That would have been excitement enough for the First Years, seeing all the owls delivering the mail — and sometimes dropping it right in the student's eggs and waffles — but the headline for the _Prophet_ garnered its own excitement. Harri couldn't see what the news was about, but it must have had something to do with her because all the students were looking her way. Finally, Fred saw her confusion and gave her his copy.

_PETER PETTIGREW ALIVE!_ and _HARRY POTTER BOOKS A LIE!_ bannered the front page, the articles splitting the newspaper vertically into two halves.

The first article recounted what had happened on the Hogwarts Express the previous day, including two pictures: one a close-up of Peter and the other showing Peter and Percy Weasley (see Weasley Family article on the inside) together. It explained how three First Years, including one Harriet Potter, had discovered Peter while playing with spells they had read about, which was _not_ a violation of the prohibition against underage magic because they were not _yet_ students and therefore it was considered "accidental" magic (see Rules Regarding "Accidental" Magic article inside). Plus, they were on the Hogwarts Express, which is considered an extension of Hogwarts, and that therefore meant they were exempt from the underage magic prohibition (see Hogwarts Express &amp; Hogwarts Magic article inside).

The details were messed up and speculation on who this Harriet Potter was, and what relation she was to Harry Potter (see Who is Harry Potter? article inside), were rampant and bordered on slander. One speculation was that Harry was a poof and cross-dressing as a girl. However, the thrust of the article was that Peter being alive meant that someone by the name of Sirius Black (see Sirius Black article inside) could not be the one who killed those twelve muggles on Halloween night, 1981 (see 1981 Muggle Massacre article inside). And if he _hadn't_ done it, was he _also_ innocent of turning the Potters over to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (see You-Know-Who and the Potters article inside)?

Harri shook her head in disbelief. This "newspaper," and she used the term loosely, was more gossip than news. And Uncle Vernon thought _The Daily Mail_ was gossipy! The vendors had always complained about newspapers and magazines never getting the details right and making things up, well now she had personal experience to see the truth of it for herself. The article inside on the Wizard War gave details she hadn't read in the history books, but she wasn't sure how accurate they were as it concluded that an Ancient and Noble Wizard family had cared for baby Harry and that he was attending Hogwarts under a glamour and an assumed name with the Headmaster's permission.

The Harry Potter Books article gave details on how all the publishers who printed Harry Potter books had been hit with violation of privacy, slander, defamation of character, and forgery lawsuits, and that all the stories published were fabrications from the authors' fantasies. Not a single one of them even came close to the truth, according to Harry Potter's solicitor.

Harri had to struggle not to break into a huge smile at the news, instead frowning and shaking her head as if she had no idea what was going on.

The newspaper used the picture from Truckle's Trunks for the appearance of the "real" Harry Potter, as authenticated by his recently retained lawyer (see Tonks &amp; Tonks &amp; Potter article inside). At the end of the article were brief notes telling the readers to see the articles about _Harry Potter's Enchanted Trunks_ and _Harry Potter's Enchanted Quills_! Solicitor Tonks, it seemed, had a wonderful sense of timing, and placement, as opposite the page with those articles was an advertisement for the new _Amanuensis_ store in Hogsmeade, due to open, coincidentally, the first weekend in October that Hogwarts allowed students to visit Hogsmeade (see the companion Amanuensis Expanding article), with special sale prices for that weekend only.

Harri almost didn't finish breakfast because she was reading the newspaper, but she couldn't eat much anyway. Ron had snagged an issue as well and immediately discovered, to his outrage, that The Chudley Cannons' lead beater, Joey Jenkins, had been injured and would miss the first three games of the season.

Professor McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor House handed out their class schedules halfway through breakfast with a warning to the First Years to get an early start so they wouldn't get lost. Harri, Neville, Hermione, and Ron, however, were told to go to the Headmaster's office as were Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater. Students stared as they left the Great Hall well before classes were scheduled to start, but they stared at all of them and not just Harri, so she felt a bit better about it.

The gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office, clearly expecting them, moved aside as they arrived, so they went right on up the stairs. The office itself was a huge room lined with bookcases, cabinets filled with all sorts of spinning, whirling, squeaking, and plinking gadgets, and portraits of past headmasters. One side of the office was a pillared platform with an enormous wooden desk and still more bookcases, two stories high, behind it.

Waiting for them were the Headmaster himself, seated behind his desk, and a woman and two men. The strangers were all dressed in the same style brown robes, which reminded Harri of those things called trench coats she had seen on the telly. They looked much more impressive and stylish than the uniforms the Bobbies wore. Dumbledore stood as the students approached.

"Ah," said the Headmaster, "here they are now." He looked at Harri with a twinkle in his eyes, "This is Percy Weasley — the Gryffindor Boys' Prefect who bound Pettigrew — and Penelope Clearwater — the Ravenclaw Girls' Prefect who was with him. And these are the Gryffindor students who were in the compartment when they discovered Peter: Harriet Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom." He indicated each student as he named him, or her, and they nodded in acknowledgment. Then he pointed to the other adults, "This witch is Auror Amelia Bones — Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Auror MacDavis, and Auror Gudgeon." He paused. "They would like you to tell them what happened yesterday, in your own words."

What followed was a long, boring, exhausting morning as the Aurors interviewed them individually. The Aurors used _muffliato_ to prevent the students from hearing each other's stories. Headmaster Dumbledore, as their "in parentis loco," listened in to each interview.

Harriet's seemed to take the longest; although, she was sure, each of them felt like their interview took the most time. This was a Consequences situation — carefully bland or blank expressions and tiptoeing around facts, conceal anything that might result in bad things happening. Hide any reaction that didn't fit what they expected.

Ameila stared at her for the longest time before asking. "Are you related to Harry Potter, the son of Lilly and James Potter?"

"I'm not a sibling, nor a cousin to this Harry Potter person. I had never heard of him until I met Hagrid and he told me about Harry Potter." Nervous, she was nervous, but it was okay to be nervous. Not being nervous would be unusual. "I live with my Aunt and Uncle, the Dursleys, they're muggles. I also have a cousin, their son, Dudley. He's also a muggle because he turned eleven last summer the month before I did and he didn't get a letter."

Watch what you say, lead them the direction you want them to head. "My parents died when I was a year old and I remember nothing specific about them." Do not lie, under no circumstances tell a lie. "My Aunt and Uncle told me they were sots who died in a drunk-driving traffic accident." Skirt the edge of a lie, but don't let them know there's more to it than what you're saying.

She had told the absolute truth, their "truth detecting" spell indicated that she believed what she had said. As long as the Aurors didn't ask for the names of her parents, her secret was safe.

"Must be her parents were from a squib branch of the family," remarked one Auror,

Excellent, encourage that thought.

"My Aunt and Uncle _never_ mentioned _any_ of our relatives being a Wizard or Witch," she volunteered helpfully. "In fact Uncle Vernon was _very_ surprised when my Hogwarts letter arrived." Not to mention absolutely furious.

The Aurors considered that. Whether or not she was related to the famous Harry Potter was puzzling, but a side issue to why they were here. They moved on to what had happened on the train, from when she boarded until she left. They let her tell the whole story, only asking questions to clarify a point.

"Why did you look up the animagus revealing spell, _manifesto_, before getting on the train? Did you know Peter was an unregistered animagus and that he was hiding with Ron Weasley?"

"How could I have known that? I had never heard of the Weasley family before I got on the train. I had read about Peter in my _Modern Magical History_ book, but it said he was dead.

"The reason I looked up and practiced the spell was. . . well I was scared. I read in my _Everything You Wanted to Know About Hogwarts_ book that there are some Wizards who can turn themselves into animals like birds, and rats and dogs and such. And the thought that a man could pretend to be a small animal so I or a friend would bring him into my bedroom where he could hide and then attack me at night. . . well, that scared me. A lot." The Aurors exchanged a look amongst themselves. "I got rather obsessed with it actually and practiced that spell for days. I went into my yard and spent hours finding moles and snakes and birds and casting the spell at them. I never knew if it worked because nothing ever happened, but that didn't stop me from practicing. I kept doing it over and over." She was babbling, now, but that was good because it would make them think she wasn't paying attention to what she said, that she wasn't censoring her words.

"Then, after that prat Draco and his buddies tried to force themselves into our compartment, well, I started thinking about that again, and there was Ron's rat, and he had said his brother had had it for a long time, and that made me suspicious because rats don't live very long. But maybe it was a magical rat and those lived longer, but why take a chance? So, I did it. And there he was.

"I even cast the spell on Neville's toad, but nothing happened except Trevor, the toad, got really annoyed at me, and turns his back to me now. And that's after I apologized to him, too!"

She looked up at them anxiously.

Ms. Bones had watched her carefully, noting her body language as well as her words. She asked a few more questions regarding what happened afterwards: whom she had talked to, and what about. Just before canceling the silencing spell, she said, "Oh, by the way, your Jelly Legs jinx worked quite well. Caught us all by surprise when we removed the binding spell and Peter fell down the moment he tried to walk."

Harri blushed, "Thanks," she mumbled. Then she had a thought, "Oh! What does this mean for that other man, uh, Black I think his name is? _The Daily Prophet_ said everyone thought he had killed this Pettigrew bloke."

The Auror stopped and looked at Harri. "We're checking that out now. We're going to interrogate him quite carefully." She then canceled the silencing spell.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said, "Thank you all," she nodded towards the students, "You have been a great help to us today." The Aurors went over to the fireplace at the side of the room, and one at a time each took some powder from a bowl on the mantle, threw it into fireplace while saying, "Ministry for Magic Atrium," and then stepped into the green flames to disappear. Harri and Hermione stared. "Is that the floo network?" asked Hermione. "Yeah," answered Ron and Neville.

"That was most interesting," said the Headmaster as he watched them, eyes twinkling. "As exciting a tale as I had expected. Peter being alive is a momentous event and the repercussions will be interesting," that last he said while looking at Harriet. He returned to his chair behind his desk. "Percy, you handled that very well, as I would have expected you to." He looked at the four First Years. "I'm afraid you've missed your first class today, 'History of Magic.' I'm sure one of your fellow students will lend you their notes. But before you leave," he picked up a quill and wrote something on a parchment and then tapped it with his wand to create four copies. "You'll need these excused slips for your Professor. Percy, Penelope," he added, handing them different parchments.

The two Prefects bustled off immediately after leaving the office to do something Percy termed "important." The remaining four looked around them. "Now what?" asked Ron. "Well," said Hermione, looking at her self-winding watch, "it's 10:45 so we should head to Charms." She sighed, "If we can find it."

Professor Flitwick, they found, was tiny, needing to stand on a stack of books to see over his desk. He was also quite excitable, falling off the books and disappearing from sight when he reached Harriet Potter's name on the roll call. He seemed quite confused when he realized Harri was a girl.

After lunch, they had transfigurations with Professor McGonagall, whose approach to teaching was very matter-of-fact, no nonsense allowed. The first day's task was to transform a match into a needle, only Hermione succeeded. Then they had Defense Against Dark Arts which was completely useless as Professor Quirrell appeared afraid of his own shadow. His severe stutter rendered his speech nearly impossible to understand. And he smelled strongly of garlic.

With Defense Against the Dark Arts being their last class of the day, they spent the rest of their afternoon doing homework — they had homework, already! — until dinner at four came around. After that, they spent the rest of the evening in the Gryffindor Common Room working on their homework and getting to know the rest of the students in their House. Finally, around nine, most students started drifting up the stairs to their rooms and heading for bed. Harri deliberately waited a bit after the other six girls went up the stairs together, pretending she had a bit more work she wanted to finish.

The other girls were already in bed with their curtains closed when Harri finally came in. She took advantage of that to retrieve her mum and dad from her trunk.

She told them about the wonderful breakfast, the interview in the Headmaster's Office, what the teachers were like, how much homework they had been given, how dinner had rivaled Sunday night's dinner, which they should remember her telling them about yesterday. The only other notable event of the day was how the four of them got lost after leaving the Headmaster's Office and ran into Argus Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris. She explained how Argus had threatened to take them to the dungeons for sneaking around the forbidden third floor corridor when Professor Quirrell, of the smelly garlic, rescued them.

Harri asked them what they thought of the school having a pranking poltergeist and such a disagreeable man as the custodian. Filch couldn't even use magic to take care of the building, for goodness sake; he had to resort to muggle methods for everything.

That actually seemed kind of cruel, forcing him to work hard for hours using muggle methods to clean and care for the building when most of the students could have done the same things in a few minutes with magic. They agreed with her that it _was_ very odd. They told her that she should always be polite to him and his cat, and maybe she should carry some treats from the tables for the cat. Later, when she knew more, maybe she could charm his tools to make his work easier. Harri agreed, it couldn't hurt.

Her dad suggested she should try to get on Peeves good side by offering to get him some pranking supplies, and maybe even helping him with pranks. That was what his friends, the Marauders, had done. Mum, after a few disapproving words to her Dad, suggested avoiding him entirely.

Then she said good night to them, locked them safely back her trunk, and went to sleep. If she had a nightmare, she didn't remember it.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Their schedule for the next three days of the week replaced History with Herbology, Neville's favorite subject, but was otherwise the same. Friday, though, Friday was Double Potions with the Slytherin First Years as the only class.

Ron, despite his brothers stories, or maybe because of them, had taken a reasonable "let's wait and see" attitude towards Professor Snape, even though he was the Head of Slytherin House.

Harri had already taken the opportunity to show off her quills to her friends and was more than happy to "loan" her extra quills to them. Ron especially liked the perfectly formed letters and straight lines that were smudge-free. Hermione had bossily insisted that they should learn how to use the quills properly and ended up in an argument with Ron with both storming off in opposite directions at the end. With one of Harri's Harry Potter's quills each, of course. Harri decided that if Hermione wanted more friends than the three of them she was going to have to cut out the "I know better than you attitude."

Friday breakfast was fabulous, as it had been every day. Harri's only regret was that she couldn't eat more of it. The daily owl mail drop was always fun to watch, as the way the owls delivered the mail indicated how they got along with the recipient. Harri had noticed that several owls always seemed to drop the mail for their student squarely into his or her plate, or knock over their morning juice or milk. Then, with the kid distracted by the mini-disaster in front of them, the birds would steal their bacon or bangers.

A few owls seemed to delight in dragging the mail through the juiciest parts of the meal before delivering it, sometimes standing in the middle of the juice or pancake syrup puddle they had just created, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the parchment or package they carried was soaking up the puddle like a sponge.

Other owls always politely landed neatly _between_ the dishes on the table and waited for their student to remove the mail or package from their leg. Those students always made sure to reward their owl with generous amounts of bacon and meat, as well as pet and stroke them while praising the owls for the just completed delivery job. Harri made sure to give Hedwig as much bacon or as many bangers as she wanted when she flew in with the rest, even though she didn't have any mail for her.

Harri was amused to note that the Slytherin table seemed to have the more problematic owl deliveries.

Today, though, Hedwig surprised Harri with a message from Hagrid inviting her to visit him at three. She was delighted to respond in the affirmative, and told her friends of his invite. This prompted a short conversation among the four about who Hagrid was and how she had met him. Because of their adventures on Sunday and Monday, and that they all had the same classes, Harriet and Hermione had taken to sitting with Ron and Neville. Hermione wanted to study, but Harri convinced her that meeting a half-giant was a learning experience that she shouldn't pass up.

There was some minor turmoil over at the Slytherin table over something in _The Daily Prophet_. A nearby third-year student let Harri look at her copy. The article that seemed to be generating all the interest was about Sirius Black.

**Lord Black Innocent!**

_The Ministry of Magic yesterday announced that Lord Sirius Black is innocent of all charges that saw him incarcerated in Azkaban for the last nine years and ten months. The investigation was triggered when Peter Pettigrew, thought to have been killed by Sirius in 1981, was discovered alive and well on the Hogwarts Express this last Sunday, September 1st (see Pettigrew Found on Hogwarts Express article inside). Pettigrew was hiding as a rat belonging to Ron Weasley (see The Ancient Weasley Family article inside), and therefore is an unregistered animagus. The Ministry also cleared Lord Black of charges that he betrayed the Potter family to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (see Potter's Secret Keeper article inside)_

_"It took us less than five minutes to determine the true events of that Halloween night in 1981," said Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones. "He was not, as everyone thought, the Secret Keeper for the Potters. Lord Black said Peter Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper, and Peter Pettigrew readily admitted so under veritaserum." Veritaserum is a potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth as they know it._

_Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban, without a trial or investigation, based on his statement at the scene in London, "I killed them, it's all my fault, I killed them." Aurors at the disaster in 1981 misconstrued that to be a confession that he had led He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to the Potters and that he had killed the twelve muggles and Peter Pettigrew in London. No one bothered to ask Sirius Black what he meant by his statement._

_Department Head Amelia Bones called this ". . . one of the greatest miscarriages of justice the Wizarding World has ever seen. That an Heir to a Most Ancient and Most Noble House could be taken from the street and sent to Azkaban without ever being questioned is simply unconscionable. The law requiring interrogating suspects cannot be ignored for the sake of convenience. The people responsible should be charged and, if guilty of breaking the law, punished."_

_Another unanswered question is why Lord Black's friend and mentor Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore (see Order of the Phoenix article inside) never questioned why one of his faithful followers would suddenly betray him, or why he never asked to speak with Lord Black for his side of the story._

The newspaper went into more details of the investigation, concluding that Lord Black would be spending an undetermined amount of time in St. Mungo's undergoing rehabilitation from his terrible experience in Azkaban with the Dementors.

There wasn't an interview with the man himself, but an unnamed Auror was quoted as saying the first question Lord Black asked on being brought from Azkaban was "Where's Harry Potter?" A question, the newspaper concluded, no one but his solicitor at Tonks &amp; Tonks seemed to know. And Harry's solicitor was refusing all questions.

After she finished the article she gave the newspaper to Ron, who, to his immense disgust, almost immediately discovered that The Chudley Cannons' lead beater, Joey Jenkins, was going to miss the first five games of the season, not three as had been originally thought.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The potions room was buried in the dungeons of the castle, where it was cooler. Only the north facing wall had windows, and those were at the very top to let in light. The room didn't need the pickled animals in glass jars on its shelves to make it feel creepy.

Snape started in on Harri almost immediately, saying "Ah, yes, Harry Pot-ter. Our new — celebrity," while taking roll call. The Slytherins were amused, especially Draco and his goons.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harri was impressed, this sounded like a wonderful class. No wand-waving — did that mean even a muggle could learn to make potions? Hermione, beside her, was fairly vibrating in her seat, determined to prove she wasn't one of those dunderheads.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Powdered what to an infusion of what?_ Harri was stumped. Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harri.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione's hand was even higher than before.

That one she remembered reading. "I think you find it in a goat's stomach. It's used. . . as an antidote to most poisons, I think."

Hermione dropped her hand to her lap.

Snap glared at Harri. Was he upset Harri actually knew the answer?

"What is the difference, Pot-ter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione again stretched her hand toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harri quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

"Stop popping your hand up like a jack-in-the-box," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Pot-ter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite." He swept his gaze across the room, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

And things did not improve. Neville managed to melt Ron's cauldron, earning a dressing down he had to endure while breaking out in painful boils over his entire body. Professor Snape turned and blamed Harriet for not stopping Neville from ruining the potion he and Ron were working on, taking another point away from Gryffindor. Then he ordered Ron to take Neville to the hospital wing of the school. That was when Harri knew for sure that the professor did not like her. She had no idea why that was so, she had never met the man before, except on the train. And that had only been in passing.

The rest of the class went quietly, and Harri considered her options carefully. Finally, she decided it was time to bring Confidence to the fore. That had always worked when Uncle Vernon had ordered her to ensure Dudley's good grades, at any cost, or else.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Author's Note:_ I discovered this oddity in researching the Gryffindor First Year girls: there were six of them, not five, just as there were six Gryffindor boys! Lavender Brown became best friends with Parvati Patil. Fay Dunbar became best friends with a ginger-haired Gryffindor First Year in braids, possibly the elusive Lily Moon. Kellah was a black girl. Add in Hermione and you get SIX girls, not five as everyone seems to assume. The sixth Gryffindor boy was Bem, also a black, who, for some reason, had a dorm room all to himself. Check the Harry Potter Wiki._


	6. Tea Time

_Note: 9/18/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**6\. Tea Time**

**Author's Note:**_ Sakura: Snape's picking on Harriet, at first at least, is because he's thinking the whole "Harriet" thing is just an act; that the boy is getting his jollies by pretending to be a girl and because he is famous the adults let him get away with it. Harri wanting to become Harry was in the hope of avoiding "Uncle's" attentions and a return to the hotel. To her becoming a boy is sort of a "get out of jail FREE" card. Vernon couldn't very well convince his clients that Harry is a girl when the equipment doesn't match. Harri thinks everything would change if she was a boy - she's 11 (many little girls say, "if only I were a boy, my parents would let me ..." you fill in the blank). And long-term consequences are a difficult concept at that age._

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

"Oh, Merlin!" Harri heard Professor McGonagall's despairing voice echo from the Potion's Classroom storage room. There ensued some furious and rapid whispering. After a few minutes, both Professors came out of the room.

It startled Harri to see Professor McGonagall almost as pale as Professor Snape, her mouth compressed to an almost invisible line. And the look she gave Harri! The woman was barely controlling her temper. What _had_ Professor Snape told her? How much trouble was Harriet in?

Stiffly, clearly forcing herself to be calm, Professor McGonagall said, "Thank you, Professor Snape, for bringing this to my attention so promptly. After your classes conclude this afternoon please come to my office." Her eyes flickered to Harri, "Miss Potter, please get your things."

Harri jumped up and darted to her potions table, snatching up her shoulder bag. The professors continued their discussion. "I'm sure the Headmaster will call a meeting so we can develop a strategy for this, this. . . ," she was close to losing her temper, ". . . situation," she finally spat out.

"Indeed," agreed Professor Snape dryly, staring at Harri. He wasn't as angry as McGonagall was, but he, too, was holding back his emotions. It wasn't a glare of hatred, anymore, that he settled on Harri, but behind his obvious anger there seemed to be. . . sadness?

"Come with me, Miss Potter," ordered the woman professor as she stalked to the dungeon door. Harri had to hurry to catch up. There was a small crowd of students in the hall, all buzzing with curiosity at what was delaying their class, when McGonagall threw open the door to the Potions Classroom. The noise level increased as an obviously furious professor swept into the hall, a small Firstie tagging along in her wake.

"Isn't that Harriet?"

"Wonder what she did to get the prof so pissed?"

"Wow, first day of Potions and someone's already fanny deep in shite," a boy said

"Watch your language, arsehole," she heard a girl hiss.

By then they were too far from the students to hear much more, except the startled yelp of a student who didn't realize Professor Snape was behind her when he loudly said "Well, Why are all of you dawdling out here? Get to your seats!"

She had to half-run to keep up with the Professor's pace down the corridor. Neither said anything until after they had ascended a staircase to the main floor. Professor McGonagall slowed down and addressed Harri in an even tone, "We are going to the hospital wing to see Healer Poppy Pomfrey. Professor Snape noticed some irregularities in your health and we feel it best to check them out. You'll be getting a full physical, but it won't take long at all. You are not in any trouble."

Harri mulled that over, relieved at not being in trouble but wondering why they cared about her health, nobody else ever had.

"No injuries, Madam Pomfrey," declared the professor as they entered the hospital wing. Ron was sitting at the base of a bed occupied by Neville. Neville was recovering nicely, Harri saw. The boils were just vague red spots now and he didn't seem to be in pain.

Madam Pomfrey, it turned out, was an older woman with grey hair peeking out from underneath her old-fashioned nurse's cap. And her clothes were just as antique. She would have fit in perfectly in a Victorian-era hospital drama.

McGonagall directed Harri to bed and swept the curtains at the sides forward to shield her from Ron and Neville. "Up on the bed," she ordered in a no-nonsense tone. Harri complied and sat waiting, as her professor went over to inform the Healer on why they were there.

She heard the nurse tell the two students, "You two may go now. Mr. Longbottom, the spots will fade shortly. If you have any pains after lunch, come back here for another pain potion, but that's unlikely. Be more careful next time, I don't want to see you in here _next_ Friday." The stone walls reflected and carried her voice around the ward. If you didn't want everyone to hear you, Harri realized, you would have to talk quietly or whisper.

Ron and Neville gave her a quick wave as they walked by the end of her bed, and she waved back, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of her being here.

Moments later the two women were standing in front of her. Madam Pomfrey smiled at Harri, and then said "Hello, Harriet. Please put your shoulder bag on the table, there. And your wand if it's not in your shoulder bag. We don't want any magical items interfering with the medical scan."

Sighing, Harri pushed up her right-hand sleeve and felt around the buckles on her wand holster. The two women watched her curiously, as she fumbled with something neither of them could see. Harri discovered it's quite difficult to undo a buckle when you can't see the loop, pin, tang, or the leather strap through them. Fortunately, as soon as one buckle came off, the entire holster became visible and, while difficult to do one-handed, at least she could see what she was doing.

Professor McGonagall was especially impressed with the device and asked a few questions about her holster, deciding, "I believe I need to stop in at Ollivanders, soon."

Then she reached up and removed her glasses, placing the now visible frames beside her wand case. Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall stared. "You wear glasses?" the Healer asked.

"Yes, ma'am, I had them spelled to be invisible when I was wearing them so they wouldn't get in my way, and another spell so they can't be knocked off my face by accident."

"I see. Well, now, relax," Madam Pomfrey told Harri, "and sit very still. This will only take a few moments." She moved her wand in an intricate pattern while saying something long in Latin.

A parchment with a quill appeared and started making notes with the two women reading as it progressed.

Their muttered conversation wasn't very informative as it consisted mostly of things like, "Look at that," "That must have been unbearable at the time," and "Look, that happened several times." McGonagall even said, "She must be quite the Tom-boy to amass such an impressive list."

When it was completed, the Healer said, "Fine, that's done. We may have to vanish a bone or two to restore symmetry or full mobility, but nothing else that a vigorous potion campaign can't fix." She smiled again at Harri. "It look like you haven't been eating right for a long time, so I'm going to give you two potions to take every day with lunch for a couple of weeks to restore you to proper health. It won't help you with your height at first — you should be several inches taller, you know — but you'll make up for that in the next couple of years."

Harri nodded. She knew the Dursleys weren't feeding her properly, but what could she do? She was only a kid and hadn't any money to buy her own food. Oh, wait, now she did! And a place to hide it.

"In the meantime, Saturday night I want you back here so I can fix those bones!"

Harri nodded again.

"Now, lie down a moment, dear, I have one more quick scan."

Harri again complied. The bed was very comfortable. Not as comfortable as her dorm bed, or the bed she had in her trunk, but it was nice.

Again, the Healer waved her wand and said something in Latin. It was a bit shorter, though, and she waved her wand specifically over Harri's lower stomach. The parchment and quill appeared and started writing. The two women examined what appeared closely. Healer Pomfrey almost immediately put her hand over her mouth while Professor McGonagall looked ready to explode.

Concerned, Harri wondered if they had found cancer or something equally serious.

Before she could ask what was wrong, though, Madam Pomfrey spoke up. "Harri, I've found some injuries here," she waved her hand vaguely over the girl's lower abdomen. "But don't worry, I have a potion or two that will put things to right. If you'll excuse us, you wait here and relax while I prepare the first potions. You should be out of here in time to make it to lunch with your friends."

The two women walked away towards the Healers office. Halfway there, Madam Pomfrey started in on Professor McGonagall. "You knew! You _knew_! I haven't seen things like that since 1980 and those women in Hogsmeade were attacked by Death Eaters! And she's just a child! What the hell is going on?"

Shit. Harri have should of expected that. She knew what people meant when they said a woman had been attacked by men, especially if it's in the plural. Uncle Vernon had been very detailed about the things that happened to women like her who were alone on the streets. He had delighted in showing her every time there was a newspaper report of a rape. He had emphasized that at least at _his_ house she was safe from random attacks, and she should be grateful for that. Naturally, a magical look at her health would reveal evidence of what TFS had let his clients, vendors, and selected associates do with her. What was going to happen now?

"You need to see this," McGonagall responded. What she needed to see, Harri couldn't see as they had moved out of the narrow range of view her privacy curtains allowed.

Were they going to expel her now? She had never had her secret exposed at school before, and the few teachers that knew were not about to spread the news as they would lose access to her, if it became known. At the very beginning, TFS had thoroughly pounded into her to tell _no one_, don't even talk about it at _home_, never tell _anyone_ her secrets.

Uncle Vernon had been clear about what would happen if people discovered her secrets. They would expel her from school — no education for her! They would put her in a special prison with other people like her, she would only have gruel, or a thin swill, for food, as people in those places don't deserve proper food. When she got out, normal people would hate and shun her and she wouldn't be able to get an apartment or stay in a hotel. She wouldn't be able to get a job because she was stupid and uneducated. She would end up living on the streets, and he had already told her what would happen to her if she ended up there. In short, she would be much worse off than she was.

And now they knew.

She sat up, put on her glasses, and grabbed her wand holster and started buckling it in place. It was difficult to do, but she would rather concentrate on that than on what was going to happen now. Expelled. Well, she wasn't going to let that happen. She would call, owl, her solicitor and get her to come here and argue with them. She was a Lord! Maybe they couldn't expel her!

The wand holster faded from view just as she became aware that Professor McGonagall was beside her. She looked up and wondered why everything was so wavery.

"Here, Harriet, here's the first potion you need to take. It'll heal your latest injuries that your magic has been struggling to fix. Madam Pomfrey is collecting and ordering the other potions now." She paused, "Harri! What's wrong, why're you crying? Does something hurt?"

Harri tried to control herself, but it wasn't working. She tried to explain, but the only words she could get out were, ". . . expel me. . ." before she broke down and started crying in earnest, with huge wracking sobs that shook her entire body. She hadn't cried in years, not since that first time that TFS had discovered he had a use for her and then moved her from the cupboard under the stairs to the room beside Dudley, because TFS couldn't fit in the cupboard under the stairs.

Later, much later, she heard a voice saying, "There, there, you're all right, you're not leaving Hogwarts, you're not being expelled, we will take care of you," and then repeating it. Someone was stroking her hair. She was also lying down, in a bed, being held. And she was dressed. Fully dressed. And so was the person holding her. That was a new experience.

She remained motionless for a time, enjoying just being held, knowing that it was only temporary. Finally, McGonagall said, "Why in the name of Merlin would you think we would expel you?"

Consequences firmly in mind, she told them, in a tired, sad voice, what her Uncle Vernon had said about her secrets and that now that they knew her secrets, that she was a slut and a whore, she expected them to expel her because they wouldn't want a girl like her in their school with the other, normal, students. That the students and teachers would hate her anyway, they would treat her badly, call her names, and would try to get her kicked out.

She heard the professor sigh, loudly. She waited for a denial, that TFS had lied to her about that, as he had lied to her about her parents. Nothing was said for the longest time and Harri couldn't help but feel her heart sinking with every minute. It was true, then, and soon she would hear the words that would end this wonderful dream she was having. She tensed up as McGonagall, still holding her, finally started to speak.

"Harri, dear, you are not in trouble. You are not a whore. It's not your fault that that. . . man. . . forced you to do those things. We don't blame you and would never expel you simply because someone forced you to do those things. We are not going to expel you for any of this, I promise."

Harri rolled over to look her in the eyes searching to see if she was telling the truth. "You promise?"

McGonagall smiled at her, kissed her on the forehead, and said, "Yes. I promise." She hugged Harri.

"But what if the other students want you to expel me for being a whore and a slut?" Harri looked away.

"Harri, you're not a whore or a slut!

"Yes I am," Harri said sadly.

"No. You're. Not."

"_Yes I am_! You don't understand!" Her voice dropped to a whisper, "It feels good, sometimes. I. . . I. . . sometimes I. . . _want_ to do those things. Sometimes. . . I. . . ," her voice dropped even lower, ". . . I start things. I. . . I. . . sometimes, sometimes I. . . I. . . _want_ to go to the hotel to do those. . . things. And I don't want to. . . to stop. Being held like that feels good. And little girls who do that are sluts and whores." Tears filled her eyes, this was the truth. She had to be a whore and a slut because only a whore and a slut would like to do what she did with those men. No decent girl would want to do those things, as TFS had delighted in telling her repeatedly. A man and his wife did those things, but a little girl who liked doing those with men she didn't even know, why that was the very definition of a slut and a whore, as TFS had told her.

There was a long silence. She knew they would expel her now.

"Harriet," said the woman softly, "you're not a whore. A woman's body is designed to find those. . . activities pleasurable. Adults _do_ like doing those things, and they aren't always married when they do them. They especially like doing them with people they love. You shouldn't be doing those things until you're much older, not for several more years at least. But that was taken from you.

"Given that you have so little love in your life, it's no wonder you would occasionally seek it out, just for the physical pleasure of it. That does _not_ make you a whore. Believe me! You are not a whore or a slut. You're a girl who has been abused by people who took advantage of their authority over you. They made you do things no girl your age should even know about, much less do. And. It's. Not. Your. Fault!"

They lay there for a long time in silence.

Mum and dad had always said that, too, but everyone else had said differently at the hotel. And while she had wanted to believe mum and dad, well, they were mum and dad and as far as they were concerned she could do nothing wrong — like the Dursleys thought of their Dudley. Except her mum and dad had scolded her for some things she had done, like the time she stole another student's pencil because it had such a pretty design on it. They had made her give it back. Finally, Harris asked, "Now what."

Professor McGonagall let go of Harri and sat up. "First, you drink this potion." She waited until Harri was sitting up before handing her the bottle that Madam Pomfrey had just given her. Harri hadn't even noticed the nurse standing beside them this whole time; she looked like she had been crying, but why? "This potion will help fix some of the problems caused by those. . . men," she said 'men' as if the word made her sick, "and what they did to you. It won't fix all of them; we'll have to give you other potions later for some of the long-term damage."

Harri drank the potion quickly, it tasted bad, but she had had much worse to drink before.

"Next," explained the professor, "I want to collect a few memories from you to help us understand what you've been through so we can prepare the potions properly."

"Memories?" Harris had a very bad feeling about that. Share her actual memories? They would actually see, hear, and feel what she had felt? She could feel her face growing hot as she blushed.

"Yes, didn't Professor Snape explain?"

"Explain what?"

"When he took that memory you gave him."

"I gave him a memory?"

Professor McGonagall looked like she was getting mad again. "Just what did he tell you in the Potions Classroom?"

Harri explained how Snape had asked her to share and then hadn't done anything except rush off to the storage room, and then asked her if he could cast a spell.

"Oh, how Slytherin of him! Had her permission, did he?" muttered the woman. "Okay, dear. Here's what he didn't explain. . . ." What followed was brief, but left her appalled. In her ignorance — she hadn't even asked him _what_ spell — she had let him read her mind and given him her memory of the day before she left for Hogwarts in all its horrific detail. And because he had 'taken' the memory, she no longer had it!

Actually, on reflection, she was of two minds about that. Good that it was gone from her memory forever, bad that others had seen it. The majority were in favor of it being a good trade. And now the professors wanted more.

It took some convincing, and the promise from Professor McGonagall that only herself, Healer Pomfrey, Professor Snape, and Headmaster Dumbledore would ever see the memories, and that they would never tell anyone else about the memories without Harriet's permission, but eventually Harri agreed.

Professor McGonagall didn't ask for anything specific, just things that would show what happened at school, at home, other things that Harri thought would show how her life was with the Dursleys. Harri settled on what her fake "detentions" at school had been like; babysitting times when the family went somewhere while she stayed at the home with a colleague of Uncle Vernon's as a sex-toy; times he had invited vendors or clients to share Harri's bed at his house instead of staying at the company hotel room, alone; Vernon's monthly three- or four-day morning wake-up calls; her all-day and overnight stays at the hotel with multiple clients and vendors; and so forth.

Because the professor had told her that they took actual memories, Harri had been very careful to select ones she _did not_ want ever to remember. It took a bit of work to find them again because Confidence had done a good job of burying them, but she felt the trade to get rid of them permanently was worthwhile. That those tended to be the worst memories, well, as far as she was concerned that was a plus. She did include one other memory of her cooking and cleaning the house back when she was only five.

Soon, Professor McGonagall had thirteen bottles with a silvery liquid in them on the side-table. "That should be sufficient. I'll look them over later."

Healer Pomfrey brought over a tray with food, juice, and two potions on it. "These are the start of your health potions, Harri. I'm afraid we're well into the lunch period, so I've had a lunch brought here for you." She rolled the bed table with the tray to Harri, who downed the potions. As she did so, the Healer continued, "Your potions will appear by your plate at lunch every day. If you miss lunch, then they'll appear at dinner, but it would be better if you took them at lunch. We'll do this for the next two weeks, and then I want you to come back for a checkup." She gave Harri a stern look, "Don't forget to come back for that check-up, I don't want to have to hunt you down." At Harri's nod, she was too busy eating to say anything, Pomfrey continued, "Depending on your progress we might have to continue a different set of potions for a while afterwards, we'll just have to wait and see." Harri nodded again.

Professor McGonagall waited for Madam Pomfrey to leave, then cast a quick _muffliato_ spell. "Harri, I want you to pay close attention to what I'm going to say. When you were born, you were born a boy. After your parents were killed — a terrible night that was — we, that is, the Headmaster, Hagrid, and myself, we left you with your only living relatives, the Dursleys. I told him they weren't the proper sort of people and that we shouldn't leave you there. But the Headmaster insisted that we had to do that, that that was the only way to protect you. He put up special wards around your home, wards that protected you and required that you live with blood relatives. The wards would also protect them, as well. And he did something else. He cast a spell that gave you the appearance of a girl. Anyone looking for a family with a new boy toddler would pass over you.

"It looks like he was right, too, the. . . bad wizards attacked and horribly tortured the Longbottoms, Neville's parents, a couple of days later and we all worried they were looking for you.

"But the spell," she looked intently into Harri's eyes, "the spell was _supposed_ to wear off. The letter the Headmaster left with you explained this quite clearly. The spell was to last until you were seven then slowly fade out over several months leaving you a boy.

"But something went wrong. We don't know what happened, but," and here her expression became very grim, "I think after seeing that memory you gave Professor Snape, that depending on when your uncle started doing those things to you that, well, maybe as the spell faded what he did forced your magic to keep you as a girl."

She sighed. "It is all very confusing. The acceptance letter went to you as Harry Potter. The registry here at Hogwarts says you are Harry. Hagrid told me that the records at Gringotts regard you as Harry." She looked back at Harriet, "But here you are, a girl. No one can deny it."

"Six," Harriet said. "The month before I was to start second year." She looked down at her now-empty plate, avoiding the professor's eyes.

McGonagall closed her eyes and a pained expression came across her fact.

"I had filled the bath too full and Dudley splashed water all over the floor. It ran into the hall. Uncle Vernon was furious and started spanking me. Then he dragged me into Dudley's toy room and threw me on the floor. That was the first time."

The professor was massaging her forehead.

"The Sorting Hat said I would probably never go back to being a boy, that it would take a very powerful amount of magic. Far more than I have. And that there are no spells that can do it."

"The Sorting Hat!" McGonagall was startled.

"Yes, it told me I used to be a boy." Harri stared out the window above the hospital bed.

They both stared out the window for a minute. Harri was deep in thought. That old wizard, it was his fault she was a girl. However, if he hadn't done that she might be dead now. But, if TFS hadn't done what he did and started taking her to that hotel room, the spell would have stopped and she would be a boy now. Yes. That fixed the blame. Uncle Vernon was the one at fault. She would have to think carefully what she wanted to do about that.

"Who are you going to tell about," Harri tiredly waved her left hand in a loose circle. "this?"

"Only the Headmaster. He must be told, things must be done to. . . help you here, and punish the ones who abused you."

Punish. "How will you do that without revealing who I am?" Punishment required police, police required evidence, and evidence required her presence. Her past would become common knowledge. Her future would be ruined.

"I don't know just yet. We'll have to work that out." She paused. "Oh, right, on a related topic. Professor Snape told me that you have your school-required robes and only one dress, one blouse, and _no_ underwear?"

She eyed Harriet suspiciously. "When I asked how that conversation came about, he said that it was not his story to tell." She paused, "Would you like to explain why you don't have an adequate wardrobe? And how he found out?"

So, Harriet told the Professor that she had never had underwear, just two dresses for as long as she could remember. As to how Professor Snape knew? Harriet had to think about how to explain that. McGonagall already knew her secret, but. . . she couldn't gloss it over.

The professor arched an eyebrow, clearly getting impatient. "Continue, please," she prompted.

She would just have to go with Consequences, "Professor Snape doesn't like me, he glares at me as if he is mad about something I did, but I haven't done anything. In class, he asked me questions about advanced potions even though this was our first class. He blamed me for Neville's potion accident even though I had nothing to do with it. Nothing I did in class was right, according to him." Harriet stopped and looked at Professor McGonagall to gauge her reaction so far. The transfigurations professor was nodding and pursing her lips.

"So I decided to do what I did in grammar school to make sure Dudley got good grades. I figured that if I gave him a reason to like me he would be fair when grading my work and papers. So, I took off my robe and blouse and started to unbuckle his pants, but he stopped me. Then he asked me if I had done that before, and if I would share."

Professor McGonagall eye's bulged out and her mouth in an "o" of surprise. "You tried to seduce him?" Her voice rose incredulously at the end of her question. "Oh, by Merlin's. . . ," she whispered. Harriet was unsure if the professor was horrified by what she heard, or was about to start laughing.

"Um, yes." Harriet tried to look as regretful as possible.

Professor McGonagall put her hand over her eyes. "And then he asked you about letting him cast a spell."

"Yes." Quietly.

"While you were naked."

"Oh, no," Harriet said earnestly, "He told me to get dressed immediately after telling me to stop undressing him."

"Thank Merlin for small mercies."

"After that, he asked about my not wearing underwear."

"I see." They sat in silence for a minute.

The professor took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Fine," she said. "We're going to Hogsmeade. Come along." Fitting actions to words, she stood and started for the door.

Harri grabbed her shoulder bag and ran after her.

Madam Pomfrey called out as Harri reached the door, "Don't forget, you have to come here Saturday night for me to fix those bones!"

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri stared at the dress mannequin. She had seen them in store windows as TFS drove her to and from the hotel, but she had never seen one that seemed so real and moved! At first, she had thought the woman in the dress on the stand was a saleswoman looking for something on the other side of the store. Then the real Gladrags Wizardwear saleswoman had walked up and introduced herself to them.

Professor McGonagall replied with a simple, "My student has had an accident with her trunk. She needs all new underclothes, blouses, and skirts. Everything."

An hour later Harriet had more clothes than she had ever owned, and in sets of eight! She had sweaters, blouses, underwear, skirts, socks, and even trousers and shorts! They were magically charmed always to fit when she wore them, with a self-cleaning charm to repel dirt and grim. She wouldn't need to buy clothes again unless she wanted a new fashion style or something drastic happened to them — like Neville in Potions class.

Professor McGonagall happened to look down and noticed she was wearing worn-out sandals with paper-thin soles. The thought naturally occurred to her that if Harriet didn't have adequate clothes, she probably didn't have shoes, either.

That had added a pair of boots, a pair of snow-boots, a pair of shoes, and another pair of sandals, each with their own enchantments, to the bill. The total was expensive, but considering how long she might have them to wear, they were cheap.

"Put them on the school tab, please," McGonagall said.

"No, I can pay," Harri interrupted, and surprised both her professor and the salesclerk by pulling out her bag from Truckle's Trunks and easily paying the fifty galleon, thirteen sickle, and five knut total.

"Harriet," McGonagall said as they left the store, "You should be careful about letting people know how much money you carry."

"But professor, I can't go to Gringotts to take money out whenever I need more, and I had no idea how much money I needed at school, so I took a lot. I thought it better to have more than I needed than to discover I was broke partway through the year." No need to mention the bag of gold Mr. Truckle had added to her shoulder bag.

"True, Harriet. Well, if you must carry that much I suggest you separate it into smaller quantities in smaller bags. That way no one will see you pull out what is obviously a very large bag of galleons and be tempted to rob you."

That required a quick stop at the Hogsmeade Post Office to buy several small carrying bags. The Post Office carried a line of envelopes, boxes, and bags for customers to purchase if they needed something in which to place whatever they were sending by Owl. The total was two sickles and ten knuts.

Their talk on the way back to Hogwarts was as interesting as the one they had had on the way to Hogsmeade. Although she didn't understand why Professor McGonagall wanted to know what she thought of marriage. Her? Become one of those trusting gullible stupid deluded women who actually believed _her_ husband was the _only_ exception to the rule that men will bed any girl or woman who lets them? That would be as likely as the moon outshining the sun.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Hermione was at the Greenhouse Entrance to the castle when Harri got there at a quarter to three, and only a few minutes behind her were Neville and Ron. The four of them made their way across the grounds. Ron regaled them with the tale of Neville's experience in the hospital wing, while Hermione clearly wanted to ask what Harriet had talked about with Professor Snape. Harriet wanted to show off her new blouse, skirt, and knickers — the knickers had unicorns on them! She deliberately left the buttons on her robe undone so that it flared around her as they walked and they could see her crisp new white blouse and gray skirt. She was disappointed that they didn't seem to notice. However, none of them had buttoned their robes closed either.

Hagrid's wooden hut was not much bigger than the wooden shack TFS had put them all in while trying to evade the owls. Outside it were a huge crossbow, which Harri doubted most men could pick up much less use, and a set of boots that were so big Harri could probably hide in one.

The booming barks from Hagrid's hut especially were scary to Harri. Marge, TFS's sister, used to have her bulldog "Ripper" chase Harriet around the house trying to bite her. That had stopped when TFS had decided Harriet had better uses than as a dog chew toy.

"_Back_, Fang," ordered Hagrid, which the enormous dog inside ignored, as Hagrid opened the door and let them in. The hut was one big room with a massive bed, and an open fireplace currently occupied by a kettle of boiling water.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked, to Harri's immense relief. The dog still made her nervous, though. The four of them sat in a row across the bed, and Harri introduced them.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron. "I spend half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

Ron grimaced, "Yeah, I don't doubt it. Me? You can't pay me enough to go into that place." He shuddered. "The closest I want to see the Forbidden Forest is from the battlements."

"Good sense, yer got there," was Hagrid's comment.

To Neville he said, "Knew your parents. Great folks. I have some stories about 'em if'n yer interested." Neville appeared excited to hear that, as excited as Harriet had been when Hagrid had made her the same offer.

Hermione just listened, examining the room around them.

The conversation drifted between what Ron's other brothers were doing, to their classes and how they liked them, or not, and ended with the four of them complaining about Professor Snape.

Hagrid's defense of the professor seemed a bit forced to Harri, but she couldn't figure out why. That was when Harri put her empty teacup — which was the size of a small bowl — and saucer — the size of a dinner plate — on the table, moving the tea cozy out of her way. She saw a cutting from _The Daily Prophet_. The article said someone had — successfully! — broken into Gringotts and escaped unharmed! She noticed immediately that the date mentioned was the same as her birthday, when Harriet and Hagrid had visited the bank. Was there a connection? When she asked Hagrid about it, his evasion was as obvious as the one he had given her in the bank when she asked what he was picking up for the Headmaster.

After almost two hours of talking, and another cup of tea, each, they decided it was time to return to the castle.

Just as they were leaving, though, she turned and put her foot on the edge of the bed and said, "Haaagriid! Look, I have socks with moving unicorns on them!"

"That's really nice Harri," he said. As anyone would do when told 'look,' he looked.

Standing straight, she lifted her skirt and said, "And, they even match my knickers!" For a moment, he stared at the little unicorns prancing across the girl's knickers, then his eyes shot wide-open as his face turned bright red. She dropped her skirt and turned to follow the others out the door. Ron and Neville were standing in the door with their mouths open in shock. Hermione looked horrified.

"What? They're new and he hadn't seen them," she explained as she pushed them out the door.

"You showed Hagrid your knickers?" half-whispered Ron.

"Yeah, they have unicorns, see?" She lifted her skirt again. The two boys stared. Hermione looked as if she was about to faint, then she shoved Neville into Ron and knocked them both off balance. "Don't look," she ordered.

"You _aren't_ supposed to show your knickers to _boys_!" she hissed at Harriet.

Harri dropped her skirt, pouting. "Why not, they're neat!"

"You just _aren't_!"

"Then why have them if nobody ever _sees_ them?" Harri asked reasonably.

"Because _you_ know they're cute.

"And I can't show them to _anybody_?"

"Well, sometimes you can show them to your friends."

"Well, you guys are my friends, so it's okay to show you right?"

"But not to _boys_!"

"Why not?"

"Because they're _boys_!"

"But they're my _friends!_ And you just said I could show _friends_!"

"But not to _boy_ friends!"

"I can't show my _boyfriend_ my knickers?"

Ron and Neville were looking back and forth between the two, like fans at a tennis game, both still shocked at a girl suddenly showing them her underwear. Ron, at least, had a little sister whom he had seen occasionally running around the house in her knickers, but that was different. She was his _sister!_ This was a girl _his age_!

"Well, your boyfriend, maybe, if you like him a lot." Hermione was getting redder and redder in the face. Ron and Neville's eyes were so wide open you could see white completely around them.

"Well, Ron and Neville are my boyfriends so I can show them."

Hermione closed her eyes briefly. "Look, you are not supposed to show your knickers to _boys_, they're _private_!"

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me the book where it's written that I can't show my boyfriends my knickers."

"I can't. It's not really written down."

"Then how do you know it's true?"

"My mum told me!"

"How do you know she's right if you can't look it up in a book?"

Hermione stared at her.

"What do your knickers have on them?"

"What?"

"Show me what you have on your knickers."

"No!"

"Am I your friend?"

Hermione stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, "Yes."

"Then show me your knickers."

"Not with _boys_ watching."

"Are they your friends?"

Hermione looked at Ron and Neville, both of whom stared back at her with expressions not unlike a couple of deer caught in a lorry's headlights, Harri thought.

"Then show us your knickers. If you're our friend."

Slowly, as if she couldn't stop herself, Hermione reached down and lifted up her skirt. Both boys, heads moving as if yoked together, tilted their heads down to look, eyes still very wide open.

Hermione's knickers were pink with red hearts on them.

"Oooh!" Harri exclaimed, "Those are pretty!"

Hermione dropped her skirt, face as red as the hearts on her knickers, and stormed off towards the castle.

Ron and Neville just stood there staring at where Hermione had been, staring at the ground now.

Harri gave them a gentle push, "Go on, dinner should be soon and I'm hungry. Plus, I think I need to find a bathroom. I'm so full of tea I'm gonna pee like a racehorse." She had never seen a racehorse pee, but from what she heard in the hotel room, it likely applied right now.

The boys gave her another startled look and slowly stumbled their way back to the castle.

Only Harri noticed the sound of a door quietly closing behind them.

Harriet wondered if maybe the reason girls weren't supposed to show boys their knickers was that it temporarily broke them. Just to see what would happen, as she walked beside them following the now distant Hermione, she said, "Tomorrow, I'll show you my dragon knickers." Both boys tripped over nothing and almost fell down.

Wearing knickers, decided Harriet, could be fun.

Then she started to wonder what Hagrid was hiding about that package and what did he know about Snape that he didn't want Harri to know. Maybe she would have to come back for a private visit later. And show him her dragon knickers. She would see what mum and dad thought about it first.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

"Albus! I am _not_ going to let this go! You _saw_ those memories! Those people are animals and should be put down!" Professor McGonagall was in rare form, righteous anger radiated from her like heat waves from a hot stove. "The only reason I don't go and curse them myself, _right now_, is because you _said_ you had things under control! I'm waiting to hear what your plans are, otherwise Harriet is NOT going to return to that house next summer." She was storming back and forth in front of his desk, with much finger waving in his face. And this was in spite of the calming draughts they had all consumed both before and after viewing the thirteen memories given them by Harri.

Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey, the only other people in the room, agreed with Minerva McGonagall, if their expressions were anything to go by.

"Headmaster, if I may," Professor Snape smoothly interrupted the tirade, now in its second quarter of an hour. He had clearly used that time to regain his equilibrium after viewing those memories and to contemplate how best to resolve the situation to his satisfaction.

Dumbledore, meekly nodded, no twinkles in his eyes this time!

"I will visit the. . . Dursleys. . . tonight and see exactly what they have been doing. I believe I will be able to convince them to. . . constrain their behavior to a more civil level."

"As for the others involved in this. . . farce," McGonagall looked like she was about to explode into another tirade, but he held her back with a glare. "As for the others, it will take a week or two but I think I can arrange for the Muggle authorities to 'discover' this child molestation ring resulting in all of them being properly arrested, tried, and convicted on their own confessions." McGonagall did not look convinced.

"It is most likely that Harri is not the only girl these _Muggles_," he snarled out that last word, ". . . have abused. I will select a 'ring leader' other than Dursley and set him up to be caught with that other girl. A light Truth Serum potion, and a suggestion to implicate as many of the others as possible, except Dursley, and the problem will quickly solve itself. The result will be a safe place for Harriet to live in the summer."

"Severus! That's an excellent suggestion. Right, Minerva, Poppy?"

Professor McGonagall still looked as if she still wanted to curse the guilty parties, including one Headmaster, based on the glare she was sending his way. Finally, she reluctantly followed Madam Pomfrey's lead and nodded.

"Severus, then, please follow-through on your suggestion," said the Headmaster, "Take your time in planning. I would rather delay justice a month if it allows us to catch all the miscreants and ensures Harry a safe home life."

McGonagall stared at the Headmaster, a sour expression still on her face. "We have another problem, Albus."

The other two looked at her expectantly.

"You saw what she went through. It's probably why her magic never allowed her to change back to a boy when the spell faded away. Changing to a boy while being raped as a girl was impossible, so her magic kept her as a girl until now it won't allow any changes. And who knows how the Dursleys would have reacted if she had changed overnight. Moreover, a sudden change of gender at that young age, I shudder to guess what might have gone wrong.

"And you heard what she was called, slut, whore, bitch, and more. They told her constantly, and showed her, that her only value was in what was between her legs. She's been living that way for five years as the impressionable child she was grew up." Professor McGonagall looked sick at the thought. "She truly believes that."

"Plus, Harriet is used to trading sexual 'favours'," McGonagall shuddered, "for better treatment from others or in exchange for food or other items she wants. She will continue to do that until we can break her of that habit." She paused. "Harriet knows sex can be enjoyable, and has no reason to put off such enjoyment, nor to not use it to gain something she wants, as Professor Snape can attest. She views herself as 'damaged goods' and not 'normal.'" She stopped again. "Most girls put off experimenting, or at least limit it, because of parental expectations and fear their reputation will suffer and would make it less likely they would find an agreeable partner for marriage.

"Harriet has no such expectations, she doesn't expect to get married, nor does she even want to. Her view of marriage sounds like a cynical old prostitute, not an innocent eleven-year-old child. She feels she has nothing to lose, so why _not_ have fun now? If someone were to call her a slut or a whore, she would most likely agree. The same would be true if they said that all she was good for was sex.

"The only thing holding her back right now is the fear that we will expel her for acting on her desires. It will take her time to realize that we mean it when we say we won't. When she does, I fear what she will do.

"She might end up doing things that leave her isolated, again, and with a horrible reputation that would prevent her from ever being accepted in the Wizarding community. Imagine what _The Daily Prophet_ would do if they discovered that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had been spelled into a girl and will bed anything, male or female?"

The other three looked sick at that prospect. The Headmaster asked, "What do you suggest, Minerva?"

She sat in her chair. "I don't know. Channel it to a select few individuals who will keep quiet? How do we select someone and know he would be someone she would approach? Wait for her to select someone and then approach him? How would we know without tracking her every movement and making her think we believe she's some kind of criminal?

"I could try to talk with her, but I can't ask her to behave like a normal witch — she doesn't know what normal _is_!

Headmaster Dumbledore finally said, "We'll have to think on it. Meanwhile, Minerva, do have a talk with Harri and see if you can convince her to be celibate for the time being.

"Poppy, being in the hospital wing gives you an excellent opportunity to monitor Harri daily, especially with the potions you're giving her. If you see or hear anything that might cause problems or that we can use to head off problems, please alert us immediately."


	7. Free Falling

_Note: 2/16/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**7\. Free Falling**

For Harri the weekend started with boring and became painful. She followed Madam Pomfrey's orders and came back to the hospital wing after breakfast. After a quick check, the Healer had told Harry to go ahead with her day and return that evening after dinner, that it would be better for the treatment to work overnight. Instead of lying in bed bored all day, or sleeping all day and then ending up awake all night, she could sleep that night and be off to lunch the next day.

She hoped she could spend the day with her new friends. Hermione wanted to study, Ron wanted to explore the castle, Neville thought studying was a good idea because the classes did have a lot of homework but then again exploring the castle sounded like fun. Harriet said, "How about a compromise? We'll study in the morning, explore after lunch, and then finish studying after dinner."

Hermione insisted, "We need to study, especially you Ron. If you'd been paying attention Neville wouldn't have melted the cauldron in Potions."

"It's _my_ fault he melted the cauldron? Are you _mental_?"

"No, it's _not_ your fault, but if you had been paying closer attention to the details you would have noticed Neville was about to make a mistake."

The argument escalated from there until Hermione stormed off in one direction while Ron took off in the other. Harri looked at Neville, who was looking at the floor obviously miserable.

"Come on, Neville, let's go see Hagrid. See if we can get him to tell us some stories about our parents." That cheered the boy up some. Unfortunately, Hagrid's hut was dark with no one home, not even Fang.

They wandered aimlessly for a short while. "Hermione's right, I really should be studying," Neville finally said and headed back towards the Greenhouse Entrance. As she watched his small figure disappear through the gate in the outer wall Harri suddenly remembered, "Damn, I forgot to show them my dragon knickers." She lifted her skirt and admired the small flying dragons, upside down. Witch socks and knickers were just soo crackin' with the way the patterns moved. And when she poked at a dragon, he dodged while glaring at her.

She spent the rest of the morning outside, exploring around the castle. Lunch came, but Hermione and Ron were still feuding and sat at opposite ends of the table. Harri sat with Hermione while Neville chose to sit with Ron. Hermione spent the time when she was not eating complaining about how the rest of them were not studying hard enough. And telling Harri just what she was doing wrong in their classes. By the time lunch ended, Harri was ready to hit her. Naturally, Harri refused Hermione's offer to study together, figuring that Hermione would continue her rant about their poor study habits.

When Harriet looked for Ron and Neville, they were gone. She thought about returning to her dorm room, but decided to explore the castle on her own. She discovered many empty, dusty classrooms, and many portraits and landscapes on the wall and statues in niches. She also surprised a few older students who thought they had found a safe place for snogging, reinforcing Professors McGonagall's statement that older girls liked kissing and fondling, except with only one person.

The higher she went, the fewer students she saw, except near the Gryffindor tower.

Finally, dinnertime arrived and she managed to get her friends to sit with her. She told them all that because she hadn't had a chance to show them her dragon knickers that she would do it another day, but tomorrow she promised to show them her owl knickers. Ron stared at her. "You're just as mental as she is," he said pointing at Hermione.

"You didn't like my unicorn knickers?" she asked in a hurt tone.

Ron turned red. Finally, he said in a low voice, "I didn't say that."

Harri looked to Neville, sitting on the other side of Ron, "What about you? Did you like them?"

It was his turn for his face to shade red before admitting. "Yeah, I. . . liked them."

Hermione snorted and elbowed her, "Hush, before someone hears you! You aren't supposed to talk about stuff like that at the dinner table, it's embarrassing." She paused. "Well, maybe not for you but it is for everyone else."

Harriet sat quietly, eating, thinking about that.

As they finished eating, she said, quietly, "I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

"Don't do it again," Hermione ordered her, "You'll give people the wrong idea."

Neville blurted out, "It's okay, I don't mind. I get embarrassed all the time."

Ron's face just turned redder, almost matching his hair.

Hermione, in a blatant attempt to change the subject, asked, "Harri, what were those potions you were drinking at lunch? Are you sick?"

"Oh, no. Madam Pomfrey said I was malnourished and needed some potions to bring my health up to where it's supposed to be."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, "Malnourished?"

"Uh huh. My Aunt and Uncle don't give me a lot to eat, they say it's real expensive to feed me."

All three were staring at her.

"But if they could see the way you shovel it in, Ron, they'd think I never ate at all. You even eat more than Dudley, my cousin, and he's twice as big as you." She frowned, thinking, "How come you're so thin?"

"My mum says I run around enough for three boys, so that's why I eat so much."

"Oh." Harri thought that made sense.

She had finished her plate off, so she stepped over the bench seat. "Speaking of Madam Pomfrey, she wants me to go to the hospital wing after dinner. She said something about 'vanishing' some bones to 'restore symmetry.'"

Ron and Neville stared at her, eyes wide. Hermione looked puzzled.

"Vanish some bones?" Neville said.

"Uh huh."

He and Ron exchanged a look before Ron added. "I-I guess we'll see you tomorrow then."

She stared at them, starting to get nervous. "Is something wrong?"

"Well," Ron said, "Vanishing bones is serious stuff. Healers only do that if the bones are really bolloxed up, like in a Quidditch crash. But you haven't had any accidents since we got to school."

"Oh. Well, they're probably left over from when Dudley used to kick me or jump on me, or Uncle Vernon picked me up." Actually, Uncle Vernon hadn't picked her up, he usually grabbed her arm and yanked her up and held her at his eye level while yelling at her, and shaking her violently. At least until she got older, then he would drag her to her bed for a "spanking," as he called it, and do things to her in her bed. She wished he had just kept yelling and shaking, and sometimes hitting, her.

Her three friends looked at her, frowning.

"Um, does it hurt?"

Ron and Neville looked at each other before Ron replied, "Well, it's not the vanishing that hurts, it's the re-growing of the vanished bone that hurts. While my brothers and I have broken bones falling and playing Quidditch at home, we've never had to have that done, so I don't know how much it hurts for sure. _The Daily Prophet_, when they mention Quidditch injuries that require bone vanishing and re-growing usually say it's painful, but they don't really say how painful."

Now Harriet _didn't_ want to go to the hospital wing, but Madam Pomfrey would probably hunt her down if she didn't. She sighed and turned to go.

"Wait, I'll go with you!" Hermione declared. At Harri's questioning look, the bushy-haired girl explained, "For moral support, you know. I wouldn't want to go to the Hospital Wing all by myself for something like that, would you? I've never even broken a bone before, and the people I've seen who have always wore those great big cast things for weeks while the arm or leg heals." Harri nodded while Ron and Neville looked perplexed at that last statement. "And you guys are talking about growing entire bones over a single night and I've never heard of that before, so it'll be a learning experience."

Ron and Neville exchanged glances, nodded, and jumped up as well. So, it was the four of them that made an appearance at the hospital wing, to the surprise of Madam Pomfrey. She tried to chase the three extra students out when they said they were there for moral support, but Hermione said, "But it's an educational experience for us to see how Healing works in practice, and this isn't done that often so we'll probably never get a chance to see it again. Besides, it will make Harri feel better if we're here with her and I've always read that healing works better when the patient is relaxed and if she feels better because we're here she'll be more relaxed and heal faster. And Hogwarts is an educational institute and healing should certainly be a part of that educational experience, don't you agree? Would you please let us watch so we can learn?" And that, curiously, worked.

But how did she talk so much without breathing?

Watching Harriet's right leg from the knee down to the foot change into a flesh covered slightly flat tube, followed moments later by her right arm from the shoulder to the elbow and her left arm from the elbow to the hand, left the three students looking slightly green.

Madam Pomfrey kept up a running dialog explaining how the spell she used removed the old bones and any small fragments so that there was no chance of anything remaining to cause an infection. The spell acted only on bones that had been damaged so she couldn't accidentally vanish bones that were uninjured. It was a tricky spell, and required a lot of practice. There were variations that did remove uninjured bones when they were between broken bones because trying to regrow small bones, such as in a hand or foot, around many other bones that were uninjured caused problems.

Ron reached out and gently poked Harri's arm. "Wow. That's. . . creepy. Does it hurt?"

"Stop that," Hermione ordered as she slapped his hand.

"No, but it feels really strange."

"Don't move, now, Miss Potter," said the Healer, "The less you move, the easier it will be. Now drink this down." She placed her hand behind Harriet's head and lifted her up while holding the potion bottle, which looked disturbingly like a skeleton.

It tasted terrible, but Harri forced herself to down it.

The healer told them a bit about the potion. It caused all the missing bones in the body to grow back, the entire bone all at the same time. That is, it didn't start at one end and grow towards the other, it started as a tiny strand that ran the length of the bone and grew outwards. It purposely didn't make your teeth regrow, which otherwise would have created more problems than it solved as impacted wisdom teeth that had been removed would have regrown and have to be removed again. Replacing lost teeth was a different potion.

Nothing happened for a few minutes, but then she started feeling things in her arms and leg. "Oh my god, that's a creepy feeling," she explained to the others, "it feels like my leg and arms have a thousand ants running up and down where the bones used to be!" After a minute, she added, "And now their biting me."

Madam Pomfrey came back over with another potion. "Here, Harriet, drink this. It's a sleeping potion. It'll take effect in a few minutes and then you'll sleep all night. It'll prevent you from moving around in your sleep and warping the bones as they regrow."

"Ron," because he was closest, "hold my nose for me, okay?"

"Sure."

Ron held her nose closed while the healer helped her drink the potion. Harriet had already discovered that the smell of the potions strongly influenced their taste. When she couldn't smell a potion, it tasted either sweet, bitter, or a combination of the two, but nothing like the horrid taste when she didn't hold her nose.

A few minutes later, Harri was asleep and her friends left, discussing what Madam Pomfrey had told them about the whole vanishing-and-re-growing bones procedure..

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The next morning found her waking to Hermione's furious whispering, "Will you two stop it! You try to peek at Harri's knickers again and I'll hex both of you 'til next Wednesday! Not to mention the detentions Madam Pomfrey will give you!" And in a slightly more alarmed whisper, "And me too!"

"But Harri said. . . ."

Harriet couldn't help it, she giggled.

"You're awake!" they all three exclaimed.

Harri was lying in almost the exact same position she had been in when she went to sleep, except now she was covered by a sheet pulled up to her neck. She almost reached up to flip the sheet down, but stopped after little more than twitching her arms. Should she try to use her arms? Would it be okay?

"Minie?" She pronounced it 'my knee,' "would you pull down the sheet so we can see my arms? You know, so I can see if it's okay to move?" Hermione was on her left while Neville and Ron were on her right. All three were standing sideways to look her in the face.

"Oh, Madam Pomfrey told us when we came in after breakfast that you should be fine, now. She said the potion finished up perfectly and that you were sleeping normally. She said just to call for her before you leave so she can give you some potions to complete everything. So, we've just been waiting for you to wake up. But I've been keeping an eye on the boys so they behave and don't get us into trouble, but they keep trying to see your knickers because you promised them yesterday you'd show them your knickers. But I don't think they should peek at your knickers when you aren't awake, it's rude, and they shouldn't be looking at your knickers anyway!" The boys nodded as she said this, although Ron looked a bit put out over Hermione being bossy.

"Hunky-dory!" Harri exclaimed, quickly flipping the sheets down to her waist and holding her arms up to see if she could spot any differences.

"AAaah," cried Hermione, just as quickly grabbing the sheet and flipping it back up to Harriet's neck. "Harri! Look before you do that! You're naked!" She hissed.

Ron and Neville were staring at her, blinking.

"I am?" said Harriet, lifting the sheet up to look at herself. "I am not! I'm wearing knickers!" she protested. "See?" She bent her arms with her elbows high to grab the top edge of the sheet in her hands, and threw it down to her knees. "And they've got owls on them!" She pointed at the owls slowly gliding across the front of her knickers, moving closer to each other as the knickers narrowed at her waist so they could fly across the back and circle to the front.

"AAaah," cried Hermione again, slapping her hands, splayed, across Harri's chest. The boys, mouths open in 'o's of surprise, their eyes open almost as wide, stared at her pink knickers with the flying owls. Some of the owls were turning to stare back at the boys in disapproval. A few even turned around from flying to the back.

Harri looked down at the other girl's hands, and then used her own hands to shift them slightly. "If you're gonna grab my titties at least do it right," she said quietly.

"AAaah," cried Hermione again, yanking her hands away, "I wasn't grabbing your titties, I was hiding them — _boys!_" She protested, pointing.

The boys, Hermione's declaration drawing their attention, were now staring at Harri's chest. Harri looked at her chest as well. She was really unhappy at what she saw. When she had first started to develop breasts two years before, the men at the hotel had made a big deal about them, calling them puffies and bee stings, and they became just one more place where she would get sore from the men's attentions. She had hoped that once the men got used to seeing them the fascination would go away. No such luck. As they had become bigger, they just drew more attention, although recently she had discovered they had pleasurable aspects to them as well. She still wished she didn't have them, though.

Professor McGonagall had picked up several bras for her, but Harriet hadn't tried any of them for more than a few minutes, yet. They were uncomfortable and difficult to adjust.

Hermione looked torn between again covering up Harri's chest or attempting to cover her knickers.

Harri, looked at her knickers and noticed that more owls than usual were congregating on the front. "Hey," she said, sliding her pillow down below her shoulders to help prop her up some, "let's see if we can trap them all on the front!" She grabbed Hermione's right hand and slapped it against her hip where the knickers were narrowest, blocking the owls from flying to the back. Owls kept flying to the front from the other hip. After a moment, the number of owls arriving from the back began dropping.

Ron and Neville didn't know where to look and were looking first at her chest then at her knickers. An owl started to go back the way he had come. Neville being closer, Harri reached over and grabbed Neville's right hand. She put it against her right hip on her knickers to block that direction. He stared at his hand, as if wondering if it were really his.

The owls were circling across the front of her knickers, trying first one hip then the other, looking for a way to the back.

Hermione had switched hands, apparently deciding to try to do two things at once. Now her left hand was on Harri's knickers, with her right hand hovering several inches in front of Harri's chest. She was clearly afraid to bring her hand any closer for fear of accusations of being "grabby," and thus was failing to hide anything.

Ron appeared to be doing an owl imitation, swiveling his head back and forth between Harri's chest and her knickers with his eyes impossibly wide open.

Harri saw several owls start to head down her knickers and lunged forward to grab Ron's right hand. "Stop them, they're escaping!" she said as she slapped his fingers into her crotch.

"That is soo crackin'!" Harri declared, propping herself up on her left elbow, watching the owls flying in several circles trying to avoid collisions as they sought a way to the back. A few owls had given up and were landing on the edge-seams of her knickers, roosting.

Hermione and Ron both looked as if they were about to have strokes. Ron was turning redder and redder staring at his right hand, clearly petrified of moving it in any direction for fear of misunderstandings and the consequences. Hermione was almost as red as Ron and staring at his hand as well, except she was drawing in a breath and looked as if she was going to explode at any moment. She hadn't noticed her right hand was pressing against Harri's left breast.

That was when Madam Pomfrey came around the short privacy curtains, saying, "What _is_ all the commotion here? You promised to be quiet."

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harriet was sitting on the bed, dressed, as a perplexed Madam Pomfrey stared at her. Harri's three friends were sitting two beds over with their backs to her, and hers to them, waiting to hear what Madam Pomfrey was going to do when she finished with Harri. Hermione was already lecturing the boys in a loud whisper. Madam Pomfrey had set up a _muffliato_ around Harriet and herself.

Harri, in a fit of pique at Madam Pomfrey for stopping their harmless game, had furtively canceled it while putting on her wand holster — popped out the wand, muttered a quick _finite incantatem,_ and put it back under the pretext of making sure the wand was okay. If Madam Pomfrey was going to yell at her, Harriet wanted witnesses.

"Harriet, first of all you and your friends are not in trouble," she started. "But there are some things you need to know about personal space and appropriate and inappropriate touching."

Harri looked up, a scowl crossing her face. "I know all about inappropriate touching," she said loudly. "I was showing them my new knickers. I've never _had_ knickers before, much less knickers where the animals move. I wanted to show them."

Ron, Neville, and Hermione were suddenly quiet and looking out the window beside them.

Madam Pomfrey stared at her as Harri stared back defiantly.

"Harriet, in Wizard and Witch society there are certain ways young wizards and witches are supposed to interact. Some things are okay to do and others are not. Letting young wizards grope your privates is one of the things a witch is not supposed to do."

"They _weren't_ groping _my_ privates, we were trapping my knicker's _owls_."

Madam Pomfrey stared at her and then smiled weakly, "Yes, you were, but, and this is the important part, dear, but you aren't supposed to let a young wizard touch you there for any reason at all. At least not until you are married."

"What about wizard doctors. . . uh, Healers?"

"Healers, in the performance of their duties, might have to touch your privates, but only when it's part of their duties."

"What about my wizard friends?"

"You shouldn't even let a boyfriend do something like that. You're supposed to wait until you're married."

"But I heard lots of witches do things like that when snogging with their wizard friends." She didn't mention the witches snogging with their boyfriends she had seen earlier that week. One couple had been a good ways beyond merely touching privates.

Madam Pomfrey sighed, "Yes, they do, but they shouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because you aren't supposed to do that sort of thing before you're married."

"Then why do they do it?"

"Because they think they are in love. Because they think that if they do that, the wizard they're with will like them more. Because they think that it gives them a hold over the wizard. Some of them think that the wizard they're with will marry them if they do that. Almost always the witches are wrong. Rarely do wizards marry the witches they date at Hogwarts, but every witch thinks her situation is the exception." The healer sighed. "It's complicated, Harriet."

"But if you don't want to get married, why should it matter?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed again, and stood silent for a long time. "Because if you do those sorts of things, word will get out and people will think less of you. They'll call you names."

"I've done those sorts of things for a long time, and lots more," she said flatly, "Do you or the other teachers think less of me for that? Or call me names like slut, whore, cum sponge, slag, bitch, scrubber, slapper, or cunt, or. . . or sperm bank behind my back?" Harri stared up at her.

"No! Of course not." The woman looked horrified at the terms Harri had spouted.

"But if others find out they might?"

"Sadly, yes."

"So I won't tell them."

"Look, Harriet." Madam Pomfrey paused, thinking, "Harriet, I guess what I'm saying is that some of things that you think are okay to do are not okay to do."

"You mean like Hermione saying I shouldn't show boys my knickers?"

"Yes!"

"But I _want_ to share things with my friends. They're the only friends I _have_. Sharing things with friends is what friends are all about. If I can't share things with them, then they aren't my friends, are they?"

The healer stood quietly for a minute, staring at Harriet's three friends. Harri glanced over her shoulder. Hermione was pointing to something out the window.

"Harriet, it's okay to share with your friends, just be. . . careful," she finally said. "Listen to Hermione when she says not to do something that she thinks is inappropriate."

Harriet smiled. "Hermione thinks being late to class and not studying is inappropriate."

Madam Pomfrey's lips twitched as if she were suppressing a smile. "About your body, I mean. Like your knickers, for example. If you want to show your knickers to Ron and Neville, well you shouldn't, but," she sighed, "but if you do, it's okay. But if you get the urge to show them to someone else, don't do it. Ask Miss Granger first. If she thinks it's a good idea, then okay, it's probably all right to do it. Try to keep these sorts of things to only your best friends."

"So, as long as it's with my _friends_ it's okay?"

"As long as those friends are Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Longbottom, only."

"Hagrid is my friend, too."

The healer stared at her, frowning. "Did you show Hagrid your knickers?"

Harri nodded.

"When?"

"Friday afternoon. We all went there for tea at three and I showed him that my socks and knickers had matching unicorns on them just before we left."

The healer sighed, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. Finally, giving in to a partial defeat, she said, "Okay, with your friends, including Hagrid, it's okay. Just keep it quiet so no one else discovers what you're doing. If you don't, it will eventually get you _and_ them into trouble with the other students and their parents."

She started to turn away, but then turned back, "However, Harriet, if anyone who isn't your friend tries to get you to do something like that or touches you inappropriately, tell one of us as soon as possible. Myself, Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster, or Professor Snape. Got that?"

Harri nodded and watched as the healer flicked her wand to dismiss the already removed _muffliato_, and then walked over to her friends. The girl was pretty sure they had heard everything. She probably shouldn't have canceled the spell, but she wanted her friends to be able to back her up. Now they knew some things about her that she hadn't intended for them to find out. Her dad always talked about unintended Consequences. But, they were her friends.

Lost in thought she didn't listen to what Madam Pomfrey said but she did hear some things: "bad experiences," "doesn't understand boundaries," "support her," and finally, louder than everything else, "if I hear you spreading any rumors about what she does or has done, you'll spend the rest of your life here at Hogwarts in detention!"

Harri had missed breakfast, so they decided to head for the Great Hall. They would be early for lunch, but that was okay, they could spend the time talking or studying.

They were passing an empty classroom when Hermione grabbed Harri's arm and dragged her into it, the boys following, puzzled. She closed the door.

"Harri, you did that on purpose, didn't you? Canceling the _muffliato_ Madam Pomfrey cast. I heard her casting it and then a moment later we could hear you clearly. Then, when she was finished talking with you, I saw her go through the motions of canceling the spell so she didn't know it was already down. And she's a grownup, she wouldn't make a mistake with a spell she uses every day. You wanted us to hear that stuff, didn't you?"

Harri looked at her friend, "Well, I was worried she was going to yell at me and I wanted witnesses. And what you heard, well, I didn't know she was going to say all that stuff, but it's okay that you heard. You're my friends."

The other three looked at her for a few moments before Ron spoke up, "Did someone really call you all those names?" Hermione glared at him. Harri nodded sadly.

"Blimey," Ron continued, "I don't even know what half of them meant but they sounded really awful."

"Yes," Harri said quietly. "I got called those a lot."

The four stood in silence. Finally, Neville said, "Get out your wands."

Puzzled the other three complied.

"Put the tips together."

They stood in a square and did so.

"Now say this," he cleared his throat. "I swear I will be unable to tell anyone not here what Harri says or does that she or I would consider personal unless she gives me her permission to do so. So mote it be."

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and then repeated what Neville had said. Harri watched, fascinated, as a glow appeared at the end of their wands that then flowed down their wands to their hands and then to their arms.

"There," he said. "A wizard's oath that no one will ever learn from us anything you tell us about yourself or that you might do that you wouldn't want anyone else to know about because it was personal. And this way no one will ever be able to get us to accidentally reveal a secret."

"And if anyone tries to, we'll tell the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, or Professor Snape." Hermione added.

They all nodded in agreement.

Harri didn't know what to say, but her eyes were watering heavily. "Thanks," she managed to choke out. They really were her friends.

Lost in their thoughts, they headed to the Great Hall for lunch. The rest of the day Neville and Rom played chess in the common room while Hermione and Harri read ahead for the classes for the coming week.

Harri had an interesting conversation with her parents that night. Mum said "You should listen to Hermione on things like that, love." Dad said to "Fuck 'em, do what you want. If they're your friends, they'll understand. As long as you're not hurting them or any of their friends, you'll be okay."

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Monday morning there was a notice on the Gryffindor bulletin board that First Years' flying lessons would begin on Thursday. . . with the Slytherins.

Harri hadn't had much interaction with the Slytherins, except for that ponce Draco occasionally insulting her in the halls, and pretending that he had mistaken her for the "real" Harry Potter and how disappointed he was. She had noticed Pansy Parkinson being a bit of twit in the Potions lesson to the Gryffindors, so maybe _she_ would be a nuisance. But Harri bet Draco would be the main problem, for some reason he had become fixated on Ron and Neville, taunting them at every opportunity. He was really starting to get on her nerves.

Meanwhile, the rest of Monday and Tuesday the students with wizarding parents spent their time bragging about their experiences with flying. Ron told them all about learning from his brothers and the time they spent every summer playing half-pitch Quidditch games at home, and the time he had nearly hit a hang-gliding muggle. Harri was surprised to hear that Neville was as inexperienced as she and Hermione, his gran had absolutely forbidden the use of a broom at his home. Considering how clumsy Neville seemed to be, Harri thought that maybe that had been a good thing. Draco and most of the Slytherin House made sure everyone else knew what masters they were of flying. Draco's stories somehow always ended with his narrowly escaping a muggle helicopter.

"Someone ought to tell whoever it is that punishes wizards for violating the Magic Secrecy Act that Draco is bragging about being seen by a muggle helicopter and didn't report it," Harri groused while they were in the library looking up books on broom flying. Hermione had found a book on Quidditch that focused on flying techniques and spent as much time lecturing them on what she had read as she did reading it. Harri found it somewhat interesting, but Neville hung on her words as if they meant life itself.

Hermione, Ron, and Neville all stared at her for a few moments. "Well, it would serve him right!" Harri added. Ron got a funny look at that. Later, just after DADA, he excused himself for a trip to the bathroom, saying he would meet them in the library later.

Wednesday, just after lunch, four Aurors came to the school and pulled Draco out of his DADA class for an interview. He returned later very flustered and refused to say anything about what the Aurors wanted. He also stopped bragging about his flying experience.

Breakfast Thursday was interesting for two reasons. Instead of the regular package of sweets Draco received every day from his mother, which he always used as an excuse to point out that Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Harri never got any mail, a simple letter was dropped into the juice puddle created by his owl's wing knocking over Draco's cup as he landed. For some reason Ron had been very interested in watching the swarm of owls this morning, which he usually ignored, and seemed to be looking over his shoulder at one particular Slytherin.

Draco turned as white as Professor Snape on reading the letter. Ron nearly burst trying not to laugh, leaving the other three wondering what he knew that they did not. "His dad is probably furious that Draco's bragging about his helicopter incident prompted a visit to his house from the Aurors!" explained Ron is a whisper, snickering.

"You didn't!" Hermione said, aghast.

"Didn't what?" Ron replied, trying for an innocent wide-eyed look and failing as he broke into a wide smile instead.

Fred and George, just a few seats down from them, had seen Ron's interest in Draco's mail, and Ron's wide smile at Draco's reaction.

They looked at each other, then stood and came over to Harri's group. They leaned over, one on each side of Ron. "Did our little Ronniekins. . ." started Fred.

". . . just prank a Malfoy?" finished the other.

Ron tried to look mad about being called 'Ronniekins' but couldn't stop his grin.

"Uh, somehow the Aurors found out he was bragging about running into a muggle helicopter and paid a visit to his dad to see if it was true."

They turned and looked at Draco, who was now staring at them, furious. Clearly he had figured out that the Weasleys were to blame for his predicament, he was just wrong about which Weasley.

Fred and George turned to Harri. "You," they declared, "are a bad influence on our brother!"

They leaned towards her. George, in a stage whisper, said, "We are so proud!"

"Keep up the good, er, bad work!" added Fred.

"If you need any help. . ." George looked at his brother.

". . . feel free to ask us." Fred looked at Harriet. They gave them both a mock salute and returned to their seats.

"Don't you _dare!_" ordered Hermione, "If you start trying to pull pranks you _will_ get caught and you'll just get us all in trouble and I, for one, have no desire to waste my time in a detention when I could be studying!"

Ron stared at her, "You're _mental_, you know that don't you? _Mental_."

About that moment, an owl landed in front of Neville with a package from home: a Remembrall. It was supposed to help you remember if you forgot to do something important, Neville told her and Hermione, filling with red smoke as he held it. Harri thought it rather useless, a cruel taunting: "Nyah, nyah, I know you forgot something important, but I'm not gonna tell you what it is! Nyah, nyah." All it lacked were sound-effects and an image of someone sticking their tongue out at you. It was completely useless, as Neville proved with his next statement, "I wonder what I forgot?"

Draco's letter hadn't taught him any manners, it appeared. He had come over to the Gryffindor table to confront the twins, but Neville's owl had drawn him to a much easier target, as he snatched up the Remembrall. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall had noticed the byplay and the Slytherin's uncharacteristic stalking over to the Gryffindor table. She was beside them in an instant. "What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Harri couldn't help but add, "Maybe he wanted to see if he's forgotten anything important, Neville."

"Oh," Neville said, looking at the clear ball, "Looks like you're doing good, Malfoy, nothing important to remember."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he slunk away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

Three-thirty finally arrived as Harri, and the rest of the Gryffindors, headed down the front steps and out to the side lawn facing the Forbidden Forest, whose tree tops swayed in the distance. The Slytherins were already in place beside the twenty brooms laid out on the ground. The twins had claimed the brooms were old and worn, with chronic problems.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry looked down at her broom, old and worn it certainly was, with some of the twigs bent and sticking out at odd angles. Following Madam Hooch's instructions, and remembering what Solicitor Tonks had said about intent being everything in magic, Harri said "UP" in a loud clear voice. Her broom slapped into her hand immediately, as did Ron's and a couple of other students, mostly from the Wizarding families. Hermione's wiggled a bit, Neville's just laid there. "Minie, Nev, take a deep breath, exhale, and say it like you mean it, like you're ordering a puppy to stop," she whispered. On the second try both managed to get their brooms in their hands, although Neville's moved slowly as if it weren't sure it was going to go all the way.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms and how to hold them properly. Harri and her friends took great delight in watching their professor correct Draco's grip and positioning, telling him he had it all wrong despite his protests.

Then came their first attempt at flying for most of the students. Unfortunately, Neville, whether from nervousness or fright, kicked off before Madam Hooch could signal them. He shot up higher and higher, easily passing thirty feet in only a few moments, before sliding sideways and losing his grip. For a moment, Harri stared in stunned disbelief as daylight clearly appeared between Neville and his broom, the gap growing larger by the second. She didn't think. Confidence drove her to shoot forward on her broom trying to catch him. She slammed into him just a few feet above the ground. They both fell heavily to the grass and rolled across the lawn. Lying on her back staring up at the sky she saw Neville's broom drifting higher and off towards the forbidden forest. She pushed herself up and looked over at Neville. He was sitting up and holding his hand.

Madam Hooch came hurrying up, her face as white as Neville's.

"I'm fine, Professor," Harri said, "but Nev," she waved her hand in his direction.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."

She looked back at Harri again.

"Honest, Professor, I'm fine," she stood up easily and wiggled her hands to show everything was okay. The woman nodded and turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing! You leave those brooms where they are, stay on the ground or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Harri picked up her broom and headed back to the other students, all of whom were alternately staring at her and at Professor Hooch and Neville as they entered the castle.

"Harri, you could have killed you both doing that!" declared Hermione, her broom now lying on the grass. "What were you thinking?"

"Nope. Every seen two football players crash? Notice how they rarely break any bones? People are softer than the ground. By crashing into Nev I changed him from falling to the ground into rolling across it and took some of his downward speed to myself. If I hadn't he would've been hurt much worse. I'm gonna have a few bruises and so will he, but he didn't die."

"But that was so reckless!"

"Should I have done nothing and let him possibly die? No. You're my friends, I'll do my best to help you no matter what."

Hermione stared at her, speechless. "You would?" she whispered.

"Of course!"

"Cor, that was something to see," said Ron. "You took off after him like nothing I've seen before. How'd you know where to go? I mean, if you had gone higher you would have missed him and the same for lower."

Harri frowned, puzzled. "I don't know. I just knew where I had to be to have him hit me instead of the ground."

Meanwhile the Slytherins had been making fun of Neville's accident, especially Malfoy.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati Patil finally snapped out.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

Parvati opened her mouth for a comeback, but Malfoy interrupted her.

"Look!" Malfoy said, running to where Neville had rolled across the lawn with Harri. He bent and picked up something out of the grass. He walked back to the Slytherin group, admiring his find. "It's Longbottom's Remembrall." He held the clear sphere between two fingers for them to see.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harri said quietly, holding out her hand. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. . . how about . . . up a tree?" Suiting action to words, he picked up his broom and took off.

Harri saw Draco hadn't been lying and he could fly very well.

Hovering level with the topmost branches of an ancient oak by the castle wall he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

"Oh, for God's sake," Harri said, rolling her eyes in exasperation, "what a bell-end." She lifted her wand, "_Accio Neville's Remembrall_."

Draco was again holding the Remembrall, now red with smoke, between his fingers so they clearly could see it and was completely unprepared for the small thing to suddenly jerk from his grip and shoot over to Harri.

"What the. . . !" Scowling, he slowly followed the device back to the group. He had no sooner touched his feet to the ground than he heard, "Mr. Malfoy," in a loud frigid tone.

Madam Hooch was stalking across the lawn towards them. "What did I tell you about not flying while I was gone? You are dismissed from this and all future flying classes. One hundred points from Slytherin, and a month of detentions with Mr. Filch when you get back from your suspension. Your father will pick you up after dinner."

Draco went white as a clean sheet, his face suddenly reflecting his recognition that he was in serious trouble.

"Go, now!" she ordered.

Draco turned and headed back to the castle.

The severe penalty dealt to the Slytherin left the rest of the class shaken. The Professor had said, though, that if anyone was caught flying they would be sent from Hogwarts. Harri supposed Draco ought to feel lucky she had meant a suspension instead of outright expelled.

"Mr. Longbottom will be rejoining us shortly." Madam Hooch addressed the remaining students. She paused and looked at them. "Well, get back to your brooms and we'll try this one more time." They spent the next few minutes mastering going up and down, and flying in a small circuit around the lawn before she released the more skilled riders to roam while concentrating on the neophytes like Hermione who were struggling.

Harri quickly joined Ron and several others in a game of aerial tag for a few minutes before deciding to just. . . fly. She noticed that Neville had returned and the professor was giving him close attention.

It was a wonderful feeling, the wind blowing in her hair, as she rose up high and then plunged low, racing at full speed towards the forest, and then turning on a dime. . . knut. . . to race back. She shot straight up until she passed the highest roof, then nosed over backwards and let herself free-fall towards the ground. She pulled out of the dive to skim along inches above the turf and then shot back up to do it all over again. She decided to fly around Hogwarts at full speed before once more shooting straight up and finishing with a power dive that left her breathless and laughing after she pulled out of it and coasted to a halt beside Hermione. "God," she said, "if I were a bird I'd never land!"

Hermione was sitting on her broom just a few inches off the lawn, staring at her. "How do you do that? I mean, I read all the books on flying and you. . . you just make it look easy and I can barely get my broom to go up and down!"

"Confidence, Minie, confidence. I just know what I can do and I do it! Relax and try it, Minie, don't think about flying, just. . . FLY! If you're worried about falling off the broom, just use a simple sticking charm!"

Harri took off, laughing, towards the castle wall at breakneck speed. She pulled up on her broom in time so that her robe almost brushed the stone walls as she sped straight up before abruptly stopping and hovering, laughing in exhilaration. Then she had a thought. She dug around in one of her robe pockets, retrieving a galleon. She took it and threw it as hard as she could, and watched as the galleon arced gracefully across the sky. Then she took off after it as fast as she could, tracing its curve and diving towards the ground as it fell. She caught it only a few feet from the ground, pulling up and shooting across the lawn , her knees and toes brushing the grass. She shot straight up, stopped, and threw it again, this time throwing it high over Hermione. Then she took after it again, catching it before it could hit the ground beside Minie, and then curving back to her.

She spun her broom in place like a top, at least a dozen times, laughing delightedly, as Minie stared at her, clearly wondering if Harri had gone completely nutters. She never noticed the rest of the class staring at her, as well. Then Harri shot straight up again. She was about to throw the galleon once more when she saw a professor come running out the front doors, looking up at Harri as she raced towards Minie. Sighing, Harri did another power dive to reach Hermione and was standing, with her broom in hand, as Professor McGonagall came to a halt in front of them.

The woman stared at Harri for a few moments, then said, "Come with me." She turned and set off back to the castle. Harri looked at Minie, who looked back, equally puzzled. Shrugging, Harri ran to catch up with the professor. Harri knew she couldn't be in trouble as Madam Hooch had said nothing against doing what she had been doing. The professor didn't say a word as she wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harri trotting behind. Finally, she stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood turned out to be a burly fifth-year boy. He looked at Harri, confused. Harri shrugged, she didn't know what was going on either.

Professor McGonagall said, "This way," and headed down the corridor. Wood looked curiously at Harriet as they walked.

"Here." Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was writing rude words on the blackboard. "Out, Peeves!" she barked. Professor McGonagall slammed the door after him as he flew out.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood — I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The girl's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Harri nodded silently.

"She caught that thing in her hand after a hundred-foot dive, twice!" Professor McGonagall told Wood.

Harri opened her hand to reveal the galleon she had been throwing.

"Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was hyperventilating, looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"She's the perfect build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, walking around Harri and staring at her. "Small. . . light. . . speedy. . . we'll have to get her a decent broom, Professor — a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Professor Snape in the face for weeks. . . .

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Author's Note: _I find the whole Quidditch theme in the Harry Potter books to be unbelievable. Not the game itself, but the games they play. In a small town where there are only a few teams, they do not play just one game against each team for a total of six games all year — that's not even one game a month! That's ludicrous. They should have several matchups with each opponent. Just look at the historical record of team play in the 1800's, where they played the games between the different years at a college — they featured rematches. A better solution would be for each team to play two matches with each opponent with an optional third match in the case of there being a one-one tie (remember, in football it's not the total number of points in a game that gets the championship, but the number of games won), meaning there would be a minimum of twelve and a maximum of eighteen games total for the year. This would work out to about a game every two weeks._


	8. Secrets

_Note: 2/16/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**8\. Secrets**

"Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall turned to the witch after the boy left to return to class, "Now that I have you, there are a few things we need to discuss." She waved her wand casually and cast a _muffliato_ spell on the room. A second wave and the desk behind her became an armchair as did the chair beside Harri. "Please sit."

Harri used the cover of looking at the chair and sitting to hide her brief look of panic before she settled into Consequences.

"First, I had a discussion with Healer Pomfrey." The professor eyed her cautiously. "I realize your upbringing left a lot to be desired, but from our point of view as professors there are certain things we need you to understand and do for us." She stopped and stared levelly at the little witch.

Realizing she was waiting for an acknowledgement, Harri nodded.

"In the Muggle World you had no control over what you did or what was done to you. You had to do what your guardians told you to do, even though it was wrong for them to make you do those things.

"The Wizarding World is somewhat similar in that as long as you attend Hogwarts we, your professors, are considered your guardians, with the Headmaster considered your actual guardian in control. What that means is that we are responsible for you while you are here. In essence, we act as your 'local' parents.

"You have developed some strong friendships already and that is a good thing. However, your upbringing has introduced you to things that children your age should not really know, primarily sex." The professor watched Harri's reactions.

"You and I both understand that sex with someone can be a pleasurable experience, and there's nothing wrong with that. Unfortunately, in your case, it has always been in a situation where you had no choice, where sometimes they used violence to force you to comply. This has coloured your opinion of sex. You have learned to use it as a tool to get better treatment, to get more food, to make your life easier. We merely have to look at your attempt to bribe Professor Snape for an example. And if you derive pleasure from the sex, you consider that as merely a bonus. For you, in your experience, sex is merely a tool to use in trades."

Harri said nothing and just blinked. It was a fair assessment. That was how she viewed sex — it was a tool. A fun messy tool, sometimes, but still just a tool.

"You can't do that here. There are over a thousand students here, most of whom know nothing about sex. And, the ones who do know about it have only a fraction of your. . . regrettable experience. If you begin indiscriminate sexual relations with other students, it will come back to hurt you later. These are children and in most cases incapable of keeping any secrets. If you doubt me, just listen to the gossips in your dorm when they start talking about boyfriends and who has one. Or better, ask Ron or Neville to tell you what the older wizards say about witches that they think are 'easy' and which witches have bad reputations and why. And notice how many wizards brag about what they did with a witch, and how angry those witches get when they discover their boyfriend told his friends about what the two of them did."

Harri stared back at her.

The professor sighed. "What I'm saying is, don't use sex or the promise of sex with someone to win their support, assistance, or friendship. That will fail to help you and in fact will come back to _harm_ you in the future. Your friends are your friends because they like _you_, not because you give them sexual gratification. You make them laugh, help them with homework, share interests, things like that are the foundations on which you build a friendship, not sex. In fact, it has been my experience that sex has destroyed more friendships than it has ever created.

"What you have not had the chance to discover is that sex should be with someone you trust and love. You share sex with them, you do not give it or take it. It is something that you both value because of the _person_ you are with. Save sex to share with someone who is special to you. Don't use it as something you trade to get what you want."

They stared at each other for a minute.

"I. . . understand you like the pleasure of sex, most everyone does. What I'm asking is that you restrict any such inclinations as much as possible."

"Madam Pomfrey," said Harri, "told me I could show my friends my knickers, and I have. And they are still my friends."

The woman closed her eyes for a moment. "Yes, I know she did. But showing off your knickers is not the same thing as having sex with someone. That is a far more intimate a matter for most people. And for someone who is just learning about sex and the feelings it brings up, as most of the students in Hogwarts are, they will consider any such activities as being far more important than you do.

"If you were to have sex with Mr. Weasley or Mr. Longbottom they would expect you to act in a way that would conform to their ideals of how a wizard and a witch interact. They would expect you to act with them as they see other couples here at Hogwarts act. They would consider you 'their' girlfriend, and seeing you act outside those expectations would deeply hurt them. They would not understand if you were to have sex with other wizards. They would not understand sex as a recreational activity, as something to do just to feel better. Neither would they understand using the trade of sexual favors to get something else. To them sex will be something personal, something you share with only one person. You could even lose them as a friend as they would feel you had betrayed them or lied to them when that was not your intention at all. Do you understand what I mean?"

Harri frowned. "No, not really. Several couples came to the hotel and they didn't have any issues with either or both having sex with me."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes and sighed unhappily, "All I can do is ask you to not do it. To trust me when I tell you that doing it with any of the students will only harm you and could destroy your friendships."

"What about teachers?"

The woman gave the orphan a hard look. "The standing policy has always been that students and professors do not interact in that way. A teacher found to have done something like that with a student would be fired."

"Is Hagrid a teacher?"

The professor frowned. "While Hagrid isn't a direct member of the teaching staff, he is. . . ." She paused, then her eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Wait, don't tell me. . . ."

Harri's expression was blank. She didn't realize until later that she should have looked puzzled, as if she didn't know what the professor was implying. That she considered Hagrid as merely a friend.

"You _didn't_!"

Harri's expression remained unchanged.

"You _did_." She sighed in resignation.

"Did what?" Harri tried to salvage the situation by acting dumb.

"Sex. Oh, _Merlin_. When?"

"When what?"

"When did you visit Hagrid?"

"The only time I visited Hagrid was when I had tea with him last Friday, with Ron, Nev, and Hermione."

"No, _when did you have sex with Hagrid_?"

Damn. Harri was trapped, she realized. She couldn't lie. The professor would go straight to Hagrid, and he couldn't tell a lie to save his soul, much less his job.

So, she explained about discovering that she had a vault in Gringotts and how happy that had made her, and what she had done.

Professor McGonagall had her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands by the time Harri finished. She was whispering, "Oh, _Merlin_. Oh, _Merlin_."

"You're not going to fire him, are you?" Harris asked tentatively. "It wasn't his fault, by the time he realized I was really serious, well, it was way too late for him to stop."

The professor sat thinking. The cauldron had melted, the spell had been cast.

"No. But you must keep this a secret if you want him to keep his job. And you cannot ever tell anyone that you told me this, for the same reason."

Professor McGonagall sat up. As she later explained to the Headmaster, she knew Harri would not be able to resist the pleasurable lure of sex. If she simply forbade the activity, the witch would ignore her and do what she wanted. Maybe not this week or this month, but she would succumb and find another partner. And that would undermine the professors' authority. Never give an order that you know will be disobeyed. Not only is it a waste of everyone's time, but it undermines your authority as you teach your underlings to disobey you.

At least now she knew of one outlet. Hagrid was intensely loyal to Hogwarts and the Headmaster. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. As long as Harri's friends could keep the secret, because she knew they would find out sooner or later.

"Professor? Can't we ask Hagrid for a vow to keep the secret? That way neither of us could reveal it by accident."

"Vow? Who told you about those?"

"Sunday, after we left the Hospital Wing, we, that is, Ron, Neville, and Hermione made a vow with their wands to never reveal any of my secrets. It was Neville's idea. He said that way they couldn't accidentally tell one of my secrets to someone else. He said they wouldn't even be able to think about it."

McGonagall was taken aback at this revelation. That her friends would think to use such a thing was highly unusual. They must have taken Madam Pomfrey's talk to heart. And it solved so many of their problems by stopping any rumors at the very source. The professor began to think that maybe they _could_ pull this off and protect the little witch.

"Miss Potter, have you started having monthlies, yet?"

Harri knew all about that, TFS and two others at Grunnings Drills had planned their visits for when their wives were "discomfited." She had been dreading that event for herself based on the many stories she had heard about how awful it was.

And that began a whole new conversation, culminating in the promise of a book on pregnancy and contraception spells.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri and her friends were looking for a secluded location. It was late Thursday evening and they had stopped in a corridor on the seventh floor. So far this week, Harri had managed to show them her unicorn, owl, chimaera, centaur, and pixie knickers. Unfortunately, twice someone had come around a corner or opened the classroom door at precisely the wrong, or right, moment, and it was only by luck the unsuspecting student hadn't also seen Harri starting, or just finishing, to show her knickers.

Minie had absolutely vetoed them going into the boys dorm and closing the curtains on Ron or Neville's bed. And the boys couldn't even go into the girls' dorms at all, the stair turned into a slide and sent them caroming back to the floor. Although they did make a brief game of it, with Harri or Hermione taking one of the boys by hand and racing as far up the stairs as they could go and then sliding back down. The prefects had been most annoyed when the alarms went off repeatedly.

So, even though the corridor appeared "safe" at the moment, someone was bound to come around a corner and see them the minute Harri tried to show off her next moving-creature knickers. Minie had tried to convince Harri that showing them her matching socks was good enough, or better yet, just showing them the knickers when she wasn't wearing them. Harri disagreed because the creatures were smaller on the socks and not as detailed, and when she wasn't wearing the knickers, the creatures didn't move. And it was so much fun to watch the boys' eyes glaze over when she lifted or took off her skirt.

Hermione had tried to convince Harri that she shouldn't show them at all. That had failed when Harri simply said, "But Madam Pomfrey said it was alright for me to show you, you heard her."

Besides, Hermione didn't have matching socks for her knickers.

Hermione still objected and it took a bit cajoling, but she, too, had shown them her knickers, but only two times. While hers didn't move, the boys' reactions were always entertaining. And, Harri suspected, Minie was secretly pleased to be the center of attention, even if she was embarrassed.

Behind them was an odd painting of a wizard dodging trolls in ballerina costumes swinging clubs as they watched Neville pace back and forth in the hall.

"We need a place that only we, Harri's friends, can find. Someplace no one will find by accident. And it has to be comfortable. A broom closet simply isn't going to work," said Neville. "Maybe we can put a charm on the door so that only we can enter. But it needs to be convenient, too. We don't want to walk halfway to the Hogsmeade, especially if it starts raining! An empty classroom won't work, it's too easy for someone to see us go in and follow us. Or wonder why we went in and sealed the room if we were only studying. As we discovered." He sighed.

Hermione gasped while Ron gaped. "Um, Neville?" Harri said, "There's a door behind you."

The room wasn't as large as a classroom, but it was definitely bigger than a broom closet. It was about fifteen feet by fifteen feet, with a long couch bent to fit in the back right-wall corner. In the middle of the room was a small platform with steps, surrounded by three chairs. They wandered in. "Wow," said Minie, "If there were a table or two in here it would be the perfect study room for us, not too big and not too small."

"Was that there when we walked in?" asked Ron, pointing to a writing table against the wall to their left. The table was wide enough for all four of them to sit comfortably with their supplies and books beside them.

"I'd don't know," answered Neville, "but those tables weren't." In front of the couch were two short tables for study materials.

Hermione stood quietly for a moment turning around in a circle before saying, "What we need in this room is a bookcase with all the reference materials we need for our classes." Then she gasped as a long bookcase appeared, filling the space between the writing table and the back wall.

"Guys," she said, "This is a magic room that gives us what we want!"

They stared at her.

"Don't you get it? We wanted a room for us, one appears. We want tables, they appear!"

"Blimey!" said Ron. "I want a flying broom!"

A broom appeared leaning against the writing table. Ron eagerly grabbed it and hopped on. "Blimey, it works!" said Ron as he drifted around the room.

"And when the door closes, no one else can enter?" asked Harri.

Neville said, "I don't know, but look!" pointing at the blank wall where the door used to be.

They stared.

"Are we trapped?" Hermione looked scared.

"Only one way to find out," Ron said shakily as he walked to where the door was. When he was only a step away, the door suddenly appeared. Ron opened it and looked out into the corridor.

"Ron, go outside, close the door, and walk down the corridor a little distance, see what happens," Hermione ordered.

The door remained for a few seconds then again turned to a blank wall. Hermione walked to the wall and the door reappeared just as it had for Ron. She opened it, looked for Ron, and called out to him, he said something and she replied. Then she closed the door and stepped back. The door disappeared for a moment, then reappeared and Ron walked back in.

"Brill!" exclaimed Minie, She turned to face Harri and Neville. "The door only appears when someone is near it! When Ron was outside the room and away from the door, he couldn't see it when we couldn't. When we could see the door, so could he."

"Our own private clubroom!" said Harri, jumping up and down.

"This is smashing!" Ron added.

Neville said, "I wonder if anyone but us can see it?"

"We'd have to get someone who _wasn't_ a friend of Harri's to walk by and see if the door appeared. How would we do that without revealing we have a secret?" Minie asked.

"Or we could ask someone to meet one of us here and simply wait in the room to see if the door appears when they approach," Neville suggested.

"Who do we know well enough that they would actually come up here? And how would we know if they did, we'd be in the room where we couldn't see them."

Harri looked at Ron, "Your brothers might."

"NO. Absolutely not! Besides, they'd think I was trying to prank them and they wouldn't show."

Neville walked over to the wall, but not to where the door was. "It would be really helpful if we could see _through_ this wall while anyone on the other side could not see in."

Nothing happened for a moment, but then, gradually, a circular hole formed that grew until it was a floor-to-ceiling transparent wall. Excited, Neville moved over to the middle of the wall where the door had been. The door appeared as he approached. He stepped out and closed the door. They watched him as he ran his fingers up and down the wall, walking slowly away from the door until it disappeared, leaving the entire wall as clear as glass for them.

He grinned at them through the wall, then put his thumbs in his ears and waggled his fingers at them. He stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes.

"Hey!" Ron walked over and started making faces back at him, then pretended he was going to hit him. Neville gave no signs of noticing anything Ron did.

Neville turned and walked back to the door, which reappeared and allowed him back in. "Couldn't see a thing," he said, wonderingly. "It looks as solid as any wall in the castle."

They looked around the room again. Hermione was already looking at the books while Rom was looking at the broomstick with a speculative expression. Harri watched Neville for a while as he studied the wall, then she wandered over to Minie.

"Some of these books are the exact same ones we already have," Minie said, pulling down a tattered old _Beginner's Potions_ by Libatius Borage, and leafing through it. "Oh, look, someone defaced this book, they've written in the margins and crossed things out! What a waste. Why would the room include a ruined book instead of a good copy?"

Harri peered over her shoulder, "That does seem odd." She paused a moment, then said, "Unless what's written in the margins is important."

"I don't know," Minie said hesitantly.

"Maybe this belonged to an older student who gave it his younger sibling, and added notes based on his upper-level classes? Let's compare this to our books and next time we're in Potions one of us can try this book's instructions," Harri suggested. "If it works, then we'll copy the notes to all out books."

Hermione was unconvinced, "That sounds risky. What if the instructions are a prank?"

"I doubt it. Why fill the entire book with writing just to make a prank on the first spell? We'll figure it out when we try one. And if it is a prank, it can't do worse than Neville." They both looked at the boy who was still staring at the wall, his hand on his chin and his other hand holding his elbow.

They examined many of the books, leafing them to see if they, too, had notes. The Herbology book had notes, too, but the notes just mentioned books where there was more information on individual plants. The rest occasionally had notes as well, just not as extensive as the potions book.

Neville called out, "Guys, if this is really a magic room that takes on the features we want, we need to think about what we want as a group. It would quite a problem if one of us was daydreaming and accidentally made the wall transparent both ways and revealed the room to someone we didn't want to find it. Or when we were doing something we didn't want anyone else to see."

That caught their attention, and the two witches walked over to Neville.

Ron was sitting on his broomstick and lazily spinning in the middle of the room ignoring them.

"Oh, well, that's easy," Hermione responded. "We just agree on what we want for this particular room and declare that only if all four of us agree can anything be changed." She paused, thinking. "We'll need to name it so we can easily get it back."

Neville frowned at her.

"Well, we can't assume we're the only ones who know about this room. And if it changes for each person, well, that means the next time we're here it'll be different, right?"

Neville nodded slowly. "Hey Ron," he called, "Come over here."

Ron drifted over, still sitting on the broom.

"We'll call this Harri's Clubroom. Agreed?" said Minie as they nodded. "And the wall with the door will always be transparent from this side only, as it is now. Agreed?" Again, the others nodded. "Only someone who is a friend of Harri's that _she_ has shown the room to will be able to see the door when they get here, or call the room if it isn't here, right? If one of us comes here with someone who doesn't know about the room, then the door won't appear at all, even if someone _is_ in the room, unless it's Harri and she wants to show the new person the room."

"Oh," said Neville, "we should be able to hear sounds from outside the room, so if someone is calling for us we'll know." The others agreed that was a good idea. "But any noises we make in here can't be heard outside."

Harri was looking around the room. Something was missing. . . . "Oh! We need a big clock above where the door appears so we always know the time."

"Oh, good idea! And it needs to chime ten minutes before any of our classes start so we can get to class on time," added Hermione.

"And announce the time each hour, on the hour!" put in Neville.

"Anything else?" Hermione looked at them, one eyebrow arched.

Harri shook her head, followed by Neville and Ron saying, "No."

"That's it then," the bushy-haired witch declared. "Those features remain the same each time unless all four of us agree to change something." They all nodded.

Harri, looked up at the clock over the door space and said, "Shite."

The other's all glanced there as well. The clock indicted 9:25PM. They were twenty-five minutes past curfew.

They ran to the door. Hermione stopped Ron as he was about to walk through the door with his broom. "You can't take that with you, you're a First Year and you'll get in trouble for having a broom at Hogwarts. Leave it here for later."

Ron gazed longingly at the broom, but regretfully leaned it against the wall before following them back into the corridor.

It was fortunate that the Gryffindor Tower entrance and Harri's Clubroom were both on the seventh floor, making it almost a straight run from one to the other. Except, for some bizarre reason, there was a _wall_ in the way, turning that part of the seventh floor corridor into a dead-end. They headed back to the stairs they had just passed.

"Aw, man, the only staircase goes down at least three floors!" Ron moaned. They started down as fast as they could reasonably go and discovered Ron was right, the staircase they were on did go down a long ways. It went right to the third floor with no other landings. Now they were on the opposite side of the castle from their dorm. They could see that the only staircase that went to the Gryffindor tower was around to their right, so they headed off in that direction.

They had almost made it to the staircase when they heard a noise ahead, and then a voice, "Did you hear something, Mrs. Norris?"

They stopped dead, appalled, "We'll get detentions if he finds us out past curfew," Minie hissed. They turned and ran back the way they had come, as quietly as they could, past, even, the staircase that brought them to this floor. When they finally stopped they were on the opposite side of the stairs from where they had almost encountered Filch.

"Blimey, that was close," panted Ron.

"No joking," gasped Harri.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," wheezed Neville, "as quickly as possible."

"Wandering around after curfew, Ickle Firsties?"

Hermione startled and gave a small, "eep!"

It was Peeves, slowly drifting through the door of the nearby classroom. "Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a quiet voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Bugger off," snapped Ron, taking a swing at Peeves.

"STUDENTS OUT OF DORM!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF DORM!"

Ducking past Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, budge up you ninny," Hermione snarled at Ron. She lifted her wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "_Alohomora!_"

The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right — please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" Filch cursed in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harri whispered. "I think we'll be okay — get _off_, Neville!" Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harri's robe for the last minute. "_What_?"

Harri turned around, and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, she was sure she'd walked into a nightmare.

They weren't in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

There not thirty feet away was a dog. But not any dog, mind you. This dog had three heads, three snarling heads, three sets of yellow mad eyes, three sets of long fangs. And it was huge, it filled the end of the corridor floor to ceiling, wall to wall.

They stared at it and it stared at them for what seemed like an eternity. Harri found herself holding her breath, as if that might somehow fool the creature into thinking they weren't there.

It had been sleeping and it was not happy at their waking it. And it intended to display its displeasure up close and personal if its thunderous growls and the way its legs were bunching up for a jump were any indication.

Harri groped for the doorknob. Between Filch and death, she'd take Filch.

They fell backward. Harri slammed the door shut, and they ran back down the corridor. Filch was nowhere to be seen, but they didn't care, all they wanted was to put as much space as possible between them and that monster as possible. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their disheveled robes and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Pig snout, pig snout," panted Harri, ignoring the question. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville was as white as their potions professor and looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had her breath back again. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"See what it was standing on? Are you daft? I was too busy looking at that thing's teeth! It had three sets of them, in case you didn't notice, because it had _three_ heads!"

Before Harri could say anything, Neville said, "A trapdoor." He was still shivering in fright.

"That's right, a trapdoor. It's guarding something!" Minie declared triumphantly.

Harri thought back to what Hagrid's mysterious package in vault seven hundred and thirteen, the break-in at Gringotts, and Hagrid's claim that there was only one place more secure than Gringotts — Hogwarts.

Later, after telling her parents of her adventures that day and moments before falling asleep, Harri realized that in all the excitement she had forgotten to show her friends her mermaid knickers.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Next morning, on the way to breakfast, the four of them discussed their adventure the previous night. Neville didn't want to talk about it. Ron was ecstatic about his first "adventure" and couldn't wait for the next. Hermione wanted nothing to do with adventures and spent the entire walk to the Great Hall lecturing them about how they should be more careful and watch the time — they all, except Harri, had watches, after all — and how could they keep such a dangerous creature in a school of defenseless children?

Harri was unsure on how she felt. Mum had been very disapproving and Dad had chortled with glee at their discoveries. He thought Harri's Clubroom was the greatest idea ever! He wondered if it could supply potion ingredients and perhaps a few pranking charms. He insisted, over Mum's loud objections that Harri should investigate the possibilities.

Halfway through breakfast came the owls and, to Harri's astonishment, a set of six owls came flying to her with a big package! No sooner had they dropped it in her lap, as well as Minie's and Ron's as they were sitting on either side of her, then another, smaller owl dropped a letter in front of Harri's plate. The smaller letter being easier to reach without accidentally hitting either of her friends in the face while opening it, Harri popped the sealing wax and read:

**DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.**

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want every First Year knowing you've a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session._

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Delighted, and unsure of how a Nimbus Two Thousand was different from other brooms, she handed the letter to Ron. "I've never even _touched_ one," he moaned piteously. Envy, thy name is Ronald Bilius Weasley!

They quickly retired to the Gryffindor Common Room, where Harri ripped the packaging apart to disclose that, yes, indeed, she had a Nimbus Two Thousand. She turned and held it out to Ron, "Quick, touch it!" A bemused Ron and Neville spent the next few minutes ah-ing and oh-ing as they stroked the broomstick.

Unfortunately, it was soon time to take off for their Double-Potions class. Harri put the broom in her closet, and they hurried off to class.

It had been a full week since the Professor had discovered Harri's past, so it was with some trepidation that she entered the dungeon room and sought out her chair, Neville sitting beside her. Minie and Ron took the table over beside Neville while, unfortunately, Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle took the table beside Harri. For some reason they thought it was Harri's fault Malfoy had been sent from the school, and were not shy with their insults. Professor Snape watched the students enter without a change in his normal, sneering expression, although, Harri thought, his gaze lingered on her the longest, and kept returning to her as the other students trickled in.

As soon as the last student sat, Snape announced, "Today you have just enough time to make this potion paste if you don't waste any time in idle chatter and work together efficiently." He waved his wand and the instructions for _Zephlepod's Burn-healing Paste_ appeared on the board behind him.

Harri grabbed the potion book from their magic room and set to work, after first comparing the instructions to the board to make sure they mostly matched and she had the right page. Hermione had refused to deviate from the book she had purchased, "If you want to experiment and ruin your potion, go right ahead. I'm sticking with what I know will work, which is what my textbook tells me, not what some unknown person has written in the margins. If you know what's good for you, you'll do the same! It's probably a prank and you'll be worse than sorry once Professor Snape gets through with you for trusting someone else's duff notes. Just make sure you don't get me in trouble, too! I don't want to waste my study time in a detention, never mind what having a detention on my record will do when I go to get a job after we graduate." God, how did she manage to say all that without breathing, Harri wondered.

Harri went and collected the ingredients while Neville set up their equipment. The notes were not that different, just minor asides, such as "slice the Fergus cap at a forty-five degree angle instead of vertical" and for the chopped pumpkin seeds it said "cut into quarters instead of chopping."

Harri made sure she re-read and check-marked each step as they completed it, making Neville double-check her every move. Minie was having difficulty getting Ron to cooperate as he seemed to think the instructions were mere guidelines with plenty of room for variations in timing and quantities. Harri was amazed their potion hadn't exploded by the time it came to spoon it out.

Professor Snape had wandered around the class offering many cutting remarks to the Gryffindor students while giving equally many compliments to the Syltherins. To Neville and Harri he had said nothing, just standing behind them as they stirred their cauldron and added the proper ingredients at the proper times. Neville was so nervous his hand shook as he stirred the potion.

Harri and Neville finished first, and Harri made sure that every bit of the cauldron's contents went into the potion tins, scrapping the sides carefully, and getting five full tins. Each tin was two-inches on a side and an inch deep. Their paste was a sunny bright-yellow, lumpy, and smelled like Dudley's underwear — really rancid. The first two features were listed in the margin notes. The book itself said the paste should be yellow, not quite smooth, and smell awful.

She put the extra four in her pocket while putting the finished one on Professor Snape's desk with the potion name, date, and her and Neville's names on it. Professor Snape stared at the tin for a long time before finally opening it and inspecting the contents. He touched the tip of his wand to the paste for a brief moment, then studied the can a moment longer. Looking as if he had just eaten something extremely distasteful he finally said, "Two points to Gryffindor for the correctly prepared paste _and_ finishing first." The Gryffindors and Slytherins all stopped to stare at Professor Snape, then at Harri and Neville, and then back at the professor. He looked up and frowned at them. The students quickly turned their attention back to their cauldrons.

Harri and Neville had completely cleaned up their table, cleaned their tools, and even finished cleaning the cauldron by the time Minie and Ron finished their paste ten minutes later, followed by the rest of the class over the ten minutes that followed that. Thankfully, there were no explosions or melted cauldrons _this_ class.

It seemed that the potions book they had found was indeed better than their regular book.

They spent the break between Potions and Lunch working on their potions homework, a two-foot paper on when you should and should _not_ use _Zephlepod's Burn-healing Paste_, as well as how to detect when the paste has gone-off and is no longer good enough to use.

They had no sooner sat at the table for lunch when Harri discovered the Weasley twins on either side of her, leaning close.

"We know you somehow managed to get Malfoy suspended," came from the twin on her left.

"And even if it was more accident than actually planned," came from the other.

"A prank that gets someone expelled for being an idiot,"

"Is a prank we've been striving for for years."

"You have our respect."

"Should you need any assistance with a future prank,"

"We have a vast storehouse of knowledge at our disposal,"

"We would be pleased to share with you."

Then they both bowed to her and left to find their own seating with their year students.

Hermione immediately spoke up, "Don't you dare, Harri! You saw how much trouble Draco got into, and pranking can get you in just as much trouble, especially if something goes wrong and you hurt someone, even by accident.

Ron objected to Minie's exaggeration of the punishments for pranks, "But Fred and George have been doing it for years and they're still here! Besides, seeing that prat Draco get what was coming to him felt good, didn't it?"

By her expression, Harri could tell that Hermione wanted to deny it. She couldn't, though, because it had felt good to see that loud-mouth braggart get what he deserved for thinking he was above the rules. Not to mention for picking on others simply because of his perceived "superiority."

And off they went into an argument over the merits of pranking versus the dangers. Harri stood up, pushed Ron over towards Minie, and sat back down in his place. The two students didn't even notice.

"So, Neville, what shall we do this afternoon — Transfigurations or finish the Potions assignment?"

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

At seven in the evening Harri met with Oliver Wood to discuss Quidditch. It didn't take long, less than half an hour for her introduction to the realities of playing that aerial game. Afterwards, she was torn between rushing back to the Common Room and telling her friends or going to visit Hagrid to tell him her good fortune.

Hagrid won out, and so a few minutes later, she was knocking on his door.

"Harri! Whot brings yeh here?" asked the half-giant.

She smirked and hung her robe on the cloak stand beside the door.

While drinking her bowl, er, cup of tea, she brought him up to speed on her joining the Quidditch team, Professor Snape's discovery of how horrid her relatives were to her, and that the Headmaster planned to "discuss" that issue with them. Hagrid, having met the sods, was glad to hear that the Headmaster was ensuring that they turned over a new leaf in regards to Harri being at their home. "But, Harri," he added "If'n they give yer any trouble, just yer le' me know, and I'll straighten 'em out!"

Then Harri remembered their adventure the previous night.

"Oh, Hagrid, me and my friends were exploring the castle and accidentally missed curfew. We were trying to get to the dorms when we ran into Filch, and we ended up on the third floor with Filch right behind us and we opened a locked door. There was this huge dog with three-heads there! I thought we were gonna die!"

"Yeh found Fluffy? Heh, Fluffy would'na hurt a fly!"

Hagrid suddenly looked away, "Should'na' said that. You should forget I said that, Harri."

"Fluffy, you named that behemoth _Fluffy_? The wall and floor _shook_ when he hit the wall after we escaped!"

Hagrid smiled, "Well, Fluffy is a big dog, after all, but 'e's got a gentle heart."

She stared at the half-giant, aghast, "_Gentle-heart_?"

"Yeh," Hagrid smiled, "Loves music he does, goes right to sleep, he does." Hagrid frowned, "Should'na said that. You should forget I said that, Harri. Don't you worry about Fluffy, he's a good guard dog, 'e is!"

Harri stared at him a moment longer, then shook her head ruefully. A secret keeper Hagrid wasn't. And that reminded her.

"Hagrid, we need to make a vow."

"Eh?"

"Neville told us about a Wizard's Vow, to keep our secrets."

Hagrid frowned. She knew he knew about the vows because he was a wizard, but she also knew his wand wasn't working right — she remembered how Dudley had been given a pig's tail and not turned into a pig as Hagrid had tried to do on the island.

But magic was all about intent. Her solicitor had told her that the wand is merely a focus point that makes it much easier to do magic. If a wand were _required_, then accidental magic would be impossible, as would _wand-less_ magic.

"Hagrid, hold out your right hand," she ordered, remembering he had held that umbrella with his wand in it in his right hand.

Hesitantly, Hagrid did as he was told.

She touched his index finger with her wand. "Now repeat after me, 'I swear I will be unable to tell anyone not one of Harri's close friends what Harri says or does that she or I would consider personal unless she gives me her permission to do so. So mote it be.'"

He sat for a moment, thinking about what she had said. Then he nodded. She repeated it slowly, and he followed along with her. As she had seen on Sunday, a glow extended down her wand to her arm and body, while the same happened to Hagrid.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed afterwards. "Hermione, Ron, and Neville are my close friends, no one else yet. So, if you have any questions, you can ask them." She smirked, "And any details about Fluffy and what Fluffy is guarding I consider personal information until summer!"

Hagrid blinked at that last bit.

Harri sat for a minute reflecting on how her life had so dramatically changed in just a few short weeks. From being used as a flesh-and-blood sex toy to setting out on her way to become a magic using witch, playing in a flying sport, and having adventures involving giant three-headed dogs that loved music! Not to mention her new business ventures, her vaults, and clothes.

Then she stood up on her chair. "Oh, Hagrid, I haven't had a chance to show you my new knickers all week! Look!" And she lifted her skirt. Hagrid, naturally, looked. And then turned bright red.

"_Harri!_ Yeh shuld'na done that." He looked away, then looked back, then looked away again.

"It's alright, Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey said that because you're my friend, I can show you my knickers!"

"_What?_" Hagrid looked back at her.

"Uh huh," she answered, looking down at her knickers, admiring the way the Centaurs were prancing across them, although now the female Centaurs were beginning to look upset and the male Centaurs were glaring at Hagrid. Then Harri told Hagrid about staying overnight in the Hospital Wing to regrow some vanished bones, and the events of the next morning. "So, you see, because you're my friend it's okay to do things like this with you, she said so!"

"I don' know 'bout that, Harri," said Hagrid, eyes flicking between her face and her knickers.

The little witch smirked and grabbed the edges of her knickers, "Well, if you don't want to _see_ them, I _could_ take them off."

"No! No!" Hagrid said, half panicked, "Leave 'em on. Ther' fine just whar they are."

She jumped up on the table and walked across to him, which put her knickers at his eye level. He stared at her knickers, it reminded her an awful lot of the look Neville and Ron got when she showed them her knickers up close, the deer-in-headlight look — dazzled and unable to look away. She unbuttoned the waist of her skirt and dropped it to the table. "Isn't it ace the way they run around? Look, the girls have all run to the back while all the guys are in front." She turned around to show him, shoving her bum practically in his face. The female Centaurs were quickly vacating the back and heading for the front.

She turned back around and leaned forward across the gap between the table and Hagrid, putting her arms around his neck. "Hagrid, thank you for being my friend." She climbed into his lap. "I can tell you _anything_ and you won't get mad."

Hagrid was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. "We should'na don' that, Harri, we should'na don' that."

"Hagrid, I told you, Professor McGonagall said it was alright. You're my friend. The best friend I've got! You were the first person who was ever happy to see _me_, and that was because you knew me when I was a baby and not because I was supposed to be this famous bloke. You helped me because you _wanted_ to, you bought me a present because you _wanted_ to, you were angry with the Dursleys because they never told me about Wizards or my _parents_. I feel like I can say or do anything I want and you won't yell or get mad at me. And that's important."

She scooted forward, sitting up on his chest, and staring down at him. "You're my friend and I want to help my friends. You live out here all alone and most everybody ignores you and what you do. Most students don't even know your name or what you do. And that's wrong. So, get used to it. I am going to be visiting you. My _friends_ are going to be visiting you."

Hagrid shifted his gaze from the ceiling to her and blushed, then returned to looking at the ceiling. "I still say we should'na done that. It ain't right, yer bein' a student and all."

Harri stared down at him. "Hagrid, what's Fluffy guarding? Is it that package you picked up from Gringott's?"

Hagrid's eyes locked onto the nude witch sitting on his chest. "Harri, yeh put that dog right outer yer mind, that's between Perfessor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel!" Hagrid scrunched his eyes closed, "Should'na said that." He opened his eyes and stared at Harri. "Yer meddlin' in things yer should'na. Yeh forget that dog, yeh forget what it's guardin', and yeh forget about tha' package from Gringott's. It'll jus' land yer in trouble, it will!"

Harri giggled and slid herself backwards. Hagrid temporarily forgot all about what he and Harri "should'na" done.

She had to run to make it back to her dorm before curfew, and still only just made it.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Saturday, after they decided to split the day between playing and homework, she told her friends about her becoming the Seeker on the Gryffindor team. After they calmed Ron down about her being on the Quidditch team, and dealt a bit with him being jealous — after all he couldn't even try out for the team! — she told them how during her visit with Hagrid to show him her knickers she had learned all about Fluffy and Flamel.

"Fluffy? He named that monster Fluffy? He's _mental_, absolutely _mental_!" declared Ron.

After repeating that Harri really shouldn't be showing her knickers to the half-giant, Minie spent her time speculating about the mysterious package and Flamel. Apparently, she loved solving mysteries and this was a mystery. Harri had a flash of inspiration! Get Minie a deer-stalker hat and magnifying glass. Harri had a giggling fit at the thought of Minie declaring, "Come Neville! The game is afoot!" or "Elementary, my dear Ronald, elementary!"

It took only a couple of moments for the bushy-haired witch to organize her thoughts and have a book appear in their Study Room bookcase named _Famous Alchemists of the Ages_, an enormous old book. That revealed that Nicolas Flamel (b. 1327AD) is the only Wizards to succeed in creating the Philosopher's Stone that grants immortality to the owner.

The four looked at each other. "I think we know what that package was and why someone would want to steal it," said Harri. "Now all we have to do is figure out who!"

On her pillow that night was a small book, _The New Housewitches' Guide to Fertility and Contraception_.


	9. Once More Into the Fray

_Note: 9/18/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

9\. Once More Into the Fray

Between her Quidditch practices and homework the next seven weeks seemed to fly by, but she still managed to visit Hagrid every Friday even if it was only for a single bowl of tea while she told him about her classes. Ron, Minie, and Nev usually accompanied her, but sometimes she visited him alone, as did they. Hagrid had never had so many visits from students, and he seemed to like it. And Harri had shown off all her witchy knickers to Hagrid and her friends. Reluctantly, Hermione had also show them her knickers. She had even shown them to Hagrid after much persuasion by Harri.

Harri still liked to show off which knickers she was wearing when they went to the Clubroom. When she was bored she would occasionally dragoon one or both of the boys to help her trap the animated creatures on one side or the other after taking off her skirt and tying her shirt above her waist. Minie still objected, but had been reduced to merely mumbling complaints and making faces. After being at first too stunned to do more than just watch her, the boys slowly got into the game, taking a hand off her hip to let a creature move from back to front, or vice versa, and sometimes using both hands to trap a creature near one hip and then scooting it to the front. Harri could hardly wait to go shopping again to get more knickers.

Malfoy returned after a two-week absence, much subdued. He still let fly with the occasional insult, but he was far more circumspect, watching more than talking. It made for quieter classes. He didn't say much to Neville or Ron, and almost seemed to be avoiding Harri. Pansy Parkinson picked up where Draco had stopped, unfortunately.

True to his word, Professor Snape had been treating Harri as he did all his Slytherin students. While Gryffindor students still bore the brunt of his wrath and the Slytherins enjoyed his compliments, Harri was in-between. She hadn't lost any points and had even earned a few, to the Slytherins everlasting astonishment.

Professor Snape's attitude to the entire class, in fact, had gone through a change. He couldn't very well treat Harri the same as his Slytherins without it looking like she was getting special treatment, something he swore he would never give the famous Harry Potter.

While he didn't start handing out points to Gryffindor students, no longer was he deducting them in wholesale batches. The first time she had asked a question he gave her detention for the same evening, and then when she arrived he had answered her question in detail and helped her with other questions she had had but had been reluctant to ask. He taught her things such as why you sometimes diced instead of slicing, how chopping was different from slicing, and why dribbling ingredients into the potion was better than just dumping them by the handful. Topics their books seemed to think the students should understand without explanations.

Thus it was that every time she had a question, she ended up with a detention that answered her question and much more besides. It was a private tutoring lesson. She made sure to pass on what she learned to her friends. She also suggested that maybe if the Professor explained these things in class there would be fewer melted cauldrons and explosions.

A week later, after three explosions and several melted cauldrons in just one hour, the professor spent the remainder of the class sneeringly demonstrating proper ingredient preparation. He also assigned a three-foot essay on why it was important to follow directions _exactly_, with cited examples of what could result in failing to do so. Each student also had to design and hand in a "Standard Operating Procedure" for preparing potions. Failing to follow the procedures the student designed resulted in points-loss and detentions. In the following three weeks, there were no explosions and only one cauldron melted.

For the first time in a decade, she heard from the older students, Gryffindor's were actually learning to _like_ potions! These same upper grade students were practically green with envy at how even-handed Professor Snape was in that single First Years' class.

Fred and George even stopped by once to ask how she had managed to blackmail the abrasive professor into some semblance of fairness. She denied blackmailing him, but couldn't explain why he was acting the way he was without revealing secrets she'd rather keep. She finally told them they would have to speak with the Professor themselves if they wanted to know why he was acting different in her class from the rest. And she told them not call him a "git," "snivellus," or any other derogatory name in her hearing.

The only other highlights in that time were the two owls from her solicitor with a brief statement on her earnings, one each on September and October fifteenth and covering the previous month. Between Truckle's Trunks and Amanuensis she had cleared 2,500 galleons in royalties, after Tonks &amp; Tonks took their ten percent. Andromeda had included a note in with the second statement about the Grand Opening sale in Hogsmeade which had been a great success. It easily had paid for the inventory sold, fixing up the building, and covering the salesclerks wages for not only October, but November as well! She'd find out in December what the actual numbers were for that grand opening.

Oddly, though, she didn't receive anything from Gringotts acknowledging the deposits. But still, that was a lot of galleons to earn while simply going to school. From what she had been able to suss out the average wizard or witch earned something like 4,000 galleons a year, and she'd made over half that in just two months!

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harris was amazed to wake one morning and realize that it was Halloween! She wondered how the Wizards celebrated it. Did they do like the world she grew up in and postpone all the fun parties to the weekend? Not that she had ever been to one. The closest she came to celebrating it was looking out her bedroom window to see what little she could of the costumes the kids wore as they walked on the sidewalk at the front yard while she was locked in her room. Dudley, meanwhile, went out and terrorized the little kids into giving him and his gang their candy and his parents went to a company party. They put out a bowl on a chair with a note at the bottom of the bowl saying that all the candy had been taken, with only a small amount of candy covering the paper to start the evening. They never had to worry about kids seeing lights on as TFS had permanently removed all the light bulbs from her room, and she was locked in.

Not that she really had anything to celebrate, anyway, because that was the night she became an orphan, and, she now knew, a girl. She wondered how things might have been different if she were a boy. Dudley wouldn't have been such a bully, she would have been able to play with Dudley as an equal. They would have been friends, playing pranks on each other, bickering good-naturedly like real siblings. They could have shared toys, watched TV, gone to movies, and played together. Everything would have been so different and so much better.

She shook her head. She had to concentrate. Today they were going to make things _fly_! Ron and Minie were paired together, and she was with Nev, again. Ron, true to form was having difficulty getting the charm to work, and Hermione was as quick as always to correct him. When he demanded, "If you're so smart, you do it!" she did, getting praise from Professor Flitwick for her success. By the end of the class, Ron was in a foul mood.

Ron, being the insensitive clod of a boy that he was, couldn't help but express his frustration with failing to do the charm by taking it out on the bossy witch who was trying to help him. "It's a miracle everyone doesn't hex her on sight, the bossy bitch," he muttered to Harri and Neville as he followed them into the crowded corridor. "Honestly, she drives me bats."

Someone knocked into Harri as they shoved past. It was Minie, and Harri wasn't startled to see tears on her face.

Harri stopped dead and turned to face Ron. "That was mean."

Ron looked a bit uncomfortable. "It's true, though, she must've noticed she's got no friends except you."

Harri, for the first time in her life, slapped a boy, hard. Several students around them, not really noticing the byplay until then, stopped and watched as the close-knit four fought in public.

Ron put his hand on his bright-red cheek.

"She's _your_ friend, too, you bell-end. If you had bothered to listen you might have been the second person to successfully float a feather, but no, you _know_ better, which is why you do so bad in all your classes. If it weren't for her nagging you'd be failing all your classes! Well, you miserable excuse for a wizard, if you want to remain friends with me you'd better find and apologize to her right now!" Harri turned on her heel and stormed away.

She searched all through lunch without success. It wasn't until DADA class that she heard that Minie was in the First Floor Witches' Toilet across the castle from the Great Hall. Harri had checked there twice already without seeing the witch or getting a response to her, "Are you in here Minie?" She hadn't heard any sobbing or other noises to indicate anyone was in the room at all. Harri decided to go there instead of flying class.

"Minie? Are you okay?" Harri asked as she pushed open the door to the First Floor Witches' Toilet. No response. She frowned and cast _finite incantatem_ on the first stall, then worked her way down them until she heard someone sniffling.

"Go away."

"Nope, not gonna happen."

"Go. Away."

"Minie, let me in."

"No."

"Then I'll just sit here." Harri sat on the floor, casting a cushion charm first. No reason to be uncomfortable.

"He's right, you know," said Harri ten minutes later.

"What?" came the quiet response.

"You try too hard to help people, it comes across as irritatingly bossy. Sort of 'I know better than _you_, and I'm going to tell you what _I_ know so you can see how smart _I_ am.' You're making it seem as if you think you are _superior_ to everyone else."

There was no answer, just a sniffle.

After another ten minutes, Harri added, "Instead of saying, 'you're doing it wrong,' use a little tact. Say, 'you've almost got it, I think all you need to do is this' and tell them what needs to change." At least that's what she had heard the salesmen say, especially when they caught their bosses doing something 'counter-productive' as they put it. "It's like, when I told you to be more confident with the broom in the flying lesson. How would you have reacted if I had marched over and said 'You're doing it all wrong. I know better than you do! Do it this way!' and embarrassed you in front of everybody?

"I like you Minie, but sometimes you are just. . . so. . . _bossy_! Everyone _knows_ you're the smartest witch in our class, you get the highest grade on all the tests and all the assignements. You don't have to prove it over and over again in class. Let someone _else_ answer the question. If the Professor asks a question, wait a moment to see if anyone else answers it first. You've already proven to the professors that you always know the right answer. Jumping up like a jack-in-the-box whenever there's a question merely makes it seem like you're an attention-whore, 'Look! Look! I know the answer and no one else does!'

"And I know you're not an attention-whore, you just want the professors to _know_ you did the work. Well, Minie, they _know_! You don't need to keep being the first to raise your hand. So, the next time the professor asks a question, if no one else raises their hand, _then_ raise yours."

The door to the stall opened slightly. "You still like me?"

"Minie," Harri smiled, "Of course I like you. You're one of my _friends_. I _trust_ you. Sometimes I might get mad at you and maybe I'll yell at you, but that doesn't change the fact that you're my friend. After all, I don't show my knickers to everybody, just my friends." She paused a moment, "By the way, which ones are _you_ wearing today?"

The door opened a bit further and the bushy-haired witch looked out. Harri moved into the stall pushing open the door. she stood there awkwardly at first.

The orphan knew what she would like if their positions were reversed, but wasn't sure it would be accepted. She had only seen people do that in movies when she was at the hotel. She took a breath, stepped close, and hugged the witch.

Hermione was taller than she was by several inches. Harri stood on her tip-toes and kissed the clueless witch her on the cheek. "You're my friend, Minie, that will _never_ change unless _you_ want it to." They stood there for a few minutes before Minie put her arms around Harri and hugged her back. Harri discovered she really liked hugging and they stayed like that for a while. She marveled that the other girl didn't tried to grope her. Harri could have stayed like that for hours. Eventually, Minie let her go and stepped back.

"Thanks," Minie said. After a long pause, she said, "So, I'm too bossy, am I?"

Harri grinned at her, remembering a conversation she had overheard between a veteran salesman and a new hire fresh from university. She sat on the floor and crossed her legs. Minie, after pausing, did the same. Harri leaned forward and lifted up the front of Minie's skirt, the knickers were plain white with frills.

"AHHH!" Minie slammed her hands down, pulling the skirt from Harri's hand and holding it down in her lap.

"Well, I did ask what you had on today. I think you should get some witch knickers. They really are more fun."

"Haaarrrriii!" Hermione cried, "Don't _do_ that!" She looked at the other girl, momentarily furious.

"Anyway," Harri said, ignoring the other girl's reaction, "Minie, ever met someone from a prep school?" Blinking at the sudden shift in topics, the bushy-haired witch shook her head.

"In a prep school new kids are assigned a mentor to teach them how to act in school. The mentor, an older student, is supposed to show them around and make sure they know the rules, and to correct them when they make mistakes. And those corrections always end up as something like," and Harri tried to make her voice sound deep, "You did that wrong! Here's the right way to do it! _I_ know better than _you_! Do what I tell you to do! Do it that way from now on!"

Hermione frowned.

"And they do it on everything from how to tie your shoes to which colors go together to how to solve a math problem.

"As a result, prep students learn to be rude and condescending when talking with their fellow students, it's always a game of one-upmanship — _I_ know better than _you_! They are always trying to show their fellow students and under-classmen that they know more than anyone else does. They graduate and always come across as being bossy, overbearing know-it-alls who spend their time looking down on everyone else for not knowing the 'correct' way to do things. Kinda like the way Slytherins act, don't you think?" Harri sighed. "If it weren't for the fact that most of them go to work for daddy or daddy's friend they'd never get a job.

"And that's exactly how you come off to everyone. If you don't get it under control, you're going to alienate the very people you want to help, and not even _know_ what you did wrong. For anyone who has to deal with people, like a salesman, that's the kiss of death. You can't afford to talk down to your customers if you want to make a sale."

Hermione's frown deepened and she opened her mouth to say something, but Harri cut her off, "Yeah, you're not a salesman, but you are trying to fit in at Hogwarts, aren't you?"

The witch nodded.

"Then stop trying to be a _Professor_! People can see how smart you are, if they want your help, they'll ask. It's like I heard one man tell his son about dating girls: always give them a graceful out. Instead of asking 'Will you go out with me Friday?' say 'If you aren't busy, would you like to go out Friday?' That way, if she's not interested you don't get a flat soul-crushing rejection, you get 'Gee, I can't, I have to — and fill-in-the-blank with whatever excuse is handy.' And if she really has something else to do, and she likes you, she'll drop a hint to ask her again later. Or even suggest an alternative day.

"Of course, you're not asking any girls out, but the idea is the same. Not 'you're doing that wrong' but 'Are you having problems with that? I had trouble doing that, too, but I found that if you do this it'll work better' or 'if would you like help with that, just ask,' or 'if you're having trouble with that, I know a trick that makes it easier' and if they are interested, they'll _ask_ for help."

Hermione nodded. The two witches got lost in their discussion on navigating the perils of being too smart. Not that Harri was too smart, but she could see what Hermione missed by being too close to the problem.

It was only when the door to the Witches' Toilets slammed open and this horrible stench came rolling in that they realized there was a problem. They stood and peeked around the stall door. When the troll stepped in they realized their problem had upgraded to a life-and-death situation — theirs!

Harri's first instinct was to be quiet and not let the troll see her while stealthily sneaking out of the door. However, Hermione's air-raid-siren volume scream, which Harri believed was heard in Hogsmeade, immediately attracted the troll's attention. Harri grabbed her friend and yanked her down to the floor as the troll swung his club. The club, which looked to have once been a very big tree, slammed through the stall walls, snapping many of them in half. Harri heard a muffled crashing sound and hoped her hearing would return before Christmas. God! What a pair of lungs that girl had!

Crowding Minie in front of her, she scuttled as fast as she could under the stall walls towards the back of the room. Heading to the door was right out as most of their cover had been destroyed. The backswing of the club took a number of the sinks on the wall opposite the toilets, shattering porcelain and breaking pipes. The troll looked around the room at the water spraying everywhere and seemed oddly happy.

Harri pointed her wand and cried, "S_TUPEFY_!" Nothing happened, so either she did it wrong or the troll was immune to magic. The troll twitched his shoulders — ugh, they could tell it was a male, his ragged trousers didn't really hide much — and turned his attention back to her. Hermione was inhaling for another sonic blast. The door burst open behind the troll. To Harri's astonishment, Ron and Neville appeared.

Harri elbowed Minie hard in the side. "DO SOMETHING!" she yelled at the girl. Harri then tried the _incarcerous_ spell. Ropes appeared around the troll. He didn't appear to notice them. He raised his club for another swing. The ropes snapped, they were as effective as strands of spaghetti.

Ron and Nevellie both fired off spells. The troll turned to look, noticing them for the first time. Harri charged forward. Neville started throwing debris at the troll. Harri leapt to part of a sink still attached to the wall, then jumped for the trolls arm. She scrambled up his arm to his head. She pointed her wand at his ear and yelled, "_AUREM DAMNO MAGNO_!" If she made sounds painfully loud maybe it would prevent the troll from hearing them over the other noise. She had seen that spell in one of her prank books.

The troll now seemed to notice her for the first time. He swung his club upwards at her. For a moment, she thought he would hit himself in the head. She slipped in avoiding the club and ended up grabbing him around the head. Her wand went up his nose.

Meanwhile, Ron and Neville had been hurling spells and debris from the floor at the troll. Ron pointed his wand at the troll's upheld club and yelled_._ She heard Hermione yelling something. The ringing in her ears prevented her from hearing exactly what any of them said. The massive club slowly went up, dragging the troll's hand up until he let go in surprise and watched it rise to the ceiling overhead. At the same time that Harri cried, "_STUPEFY,_" the club came crashing down on the troll's head, narrowly missing her.

Whether it was the club, Harri's _stupefy_ from her wand in his nose, or both, the troll tottered for a moment, and then crashed to the floor. Harri fell off and onto the floor. Harri could hear only the muffled sound of water spraying against the walls from the broken pipes. She scrambled to her feet and the four of them stared at each other.

"Did you kill it?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"I DON'T _THINK_ SO," said Harri.

"I think he's just knocked out," said Neville. "And you don't have to yell, Harri" he said looking at her.

"I'M NOT YELLING, WHY ARE YOU WHISPERING?" Harri responded.

Ron was holding his wand up in front of his face and staring alternately at the wand, the troll, and the troll's club.

Harri retrieved her wand from the troll's nose. "ICK," she said, wiping it off as best she could on the troll's trousers. Hermione echoed her comment.

The door slammed open, startling them. All four spun around and pointed their wands at the door. Professor McGonagall burst into the room, with Snape and Quirrell close behind. Quirrell collapsed on the one toilet still intact, whimpering and clutching his heart at the sight of the troll.

Professor Snape examined the troll. Professor McGonagall was staring at the four students, her eyebrows raised. The four Gryffindor's looked at her, then at their wands. They quickly straightened and hid their wands behind their backs. Harri had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" Professor McGonagall demanded, cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Harri was speechless for a moment, then said, "TODAY IS THE DAY MY PARENTS _DIED_. WHY WOULD I CELEBRATE IT?"

Hermione elbowed her in the side, hard. "Sorry Professor McGonagall, I think I screamed in Harri's ear."

Harri, frowned, put her fingers in her ears and wiggled them, then yawned, hoping that would make her ears pop.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, "Harri didn't feel like celebrating tonight."

Harri gave the Professor as cold a look as she could.

"I was keeping her company while we wandered around. We stopped in here for a minute to use the facilities. Suddenly this," the bushy-haired witch pointed at the troll, "troll burst in and we were fighting for our lives. If Ron and Neville hadn't come in when they did we'd be _dead_."

The three students were staring at Hermione as if she had grown a second head. Hermione was telling a _lie_? To a _Professor_?

Ron recovered first, saying, "Yeah, we were headed to the dorm when I thought I saw Hermione and Harri at the end of the hall. We knew they didn't know about the troll because they weren't at their seats in the Great Hall. The prefects were way ahead of us, so Neville and I ran down to tell them to go to the dorm. But then we saw the troll go into the Witches' Toilet. I thought we'd run to tell our Prefects about seeing the troll, because that was more important. But then we heard a scream and realized that was where the girls were, so we rushed in to help."

Professor McGonagall looked at her four errant students, two who were drenched. Her expression changing from fury to merely upset. "Well, I must say you have the luck of the Irish — not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. Five points to Gryffindor for each of you. I will inform Professor Dumbledore of this. If you're not hurt. . . . you are unhurt, correct?" They nodded. "You'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower," the professor continued. "Students are finishing the feast in their Houses."

They were halfway to their dorm when Ron spoke up. "Right." He stopped on the staircase looking up at the two witches. He took a deep breath, "Hermione, I'm sorry. Sometimes I can be a right git, and today was one of them."

Hermione stared down at him, then gave a curt nod. "Okay." She turned to continue up the stairs, but turned back, "Thanks for coming to save us." She then went on up the stairs.

Ron mumbled, "you're welcome," and followed.

Neville and Harri just looked at each other, amazed at Ron apologizing. Their friendship had turned a corner.

And Harri's wand needed cleaning. She still had it in hand, not wanting any of the troll snot to get in her wand holster to do who knew what in damage to it. And the ringing in her ears had finally subsided. Who knew Minie could hit the volume of an air-raid siren?

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The next day, Friday, Professor Snape was waiting in the classroom, sitting behind his desk, as the students filed in. They could tell just by his expression that it was not going to be a good day and even the Slytherins were subdued and quiet.

By now, even Hermione had admitted that their "found" potions book was superior to the standard text and she had diligently copied all the notations and "improvements" to her book. They had worked out a system where they rotated in teaming with Neville. Even with the new S.O.P.s the students designed Neville was still a hazard in the Potions room. He could help prepare a passable potion as long as his partner kept a sharp eye on where Neville's hands were and what they were about to do.

Professor Snape, seeing the advantages of fewer melted cauldrons and explosions allowed them to maintain their rotation. And Neville's confidence was growing as each successfully completed potion demonstrated that, yes, he _could_ do things right if he was careful.

Today was a bit nerve-wracking, but the four made it through to the end with potions that earned, if not praise, at least not condemnations. Harri noticed that the professor seemed to be limping as he moved around the room.

After announcing their assignments and dismissing the class, the potions Professor added, "Miss Potter, I need to speak with you."

Harri grabbed her stuff and walked over to Professor Snape's desk and stood there waiting as he finished making notes on a parchment. As soon as the last student left the classroom, he put down his quill and looked at her, no sneer, just a blank expression. The classroom door silently swung shut.

"Miss Potter, I paid a visit to your — relatives. They were quite unpleasant."

Harri nodded, she could easily believe that, and wondered where he was headed with this.

"I can assure you that they will never again treat you with anything but the utmost respect."

Harri stared at him, stunned. She finally asked, "What did you do?"

He returned her stare levelly, no sneering, just a calm placid expression, as if he were relaying the weather forecast, "That is neither here nor there, suffice to say that they will not strike you or force you to do anything like they used to do. They might _ask_ you to help with the household chores, but you are free to say no. They will ensure that you always have sufficient food and drink, as well as clothing or _anything_ _else_ you may require. They will not interfere with your studies or hinder your activities."

Harri stared at him, mind blank, unable to think of what to say until. . . "What of the hotel?"

His expression hardened slightly. "The. . . Muggles. . . whom you met at that hotel have been arrested and charged with the crime of child molestation over the last few weeks."

Harri began to breathe quickly, starting to panic. They had learned about her at the hotel room, soon everyone would know.

"Relax, child," Professor Snape ordered, scoffing, "Did you _really_ think you were the _only_ one those Muggles abused?" He snorted. "For most of them you were merely one among many. They do not remember you, now, however, so they can never tell anyone about you." He studied her carefully as she slowly brought herself back under control.

"I merely did a bit of investigating and discovered a few of their victims. Then I had one of them 'confess' to the Bobbies about what he had done. The entire ring collapsed as each one brought in by the Bobbies gave a complete confession and named the other culprits in an attempt to bargain for a lighter sentence he or she will not receive.

"Your uncle understands that the only reason he isn't in jail with them is because of _you_. And if he wants to remain out of jail, well he had better treat you as if you were one of his top clients at his business."

Harri stood there, knees shaking. She realized tears were pouring down her face.

Snape sat watching her, his face a mask that didn't betray what he was thinking or feeling.

Finally, Harri managed to whisper, "Thank you." Then she stepped close and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly, whispering over and over, "Thank you, thank you." She felt him pat her back.

She stepped back. "Thank you, sir," wiping at her cheeks and sniffling.

"You may go now, child. If you have any problems on _anything_, come to my office at any time of the day or night. Simply tell a portrait or any of the Hogwarts ghosts that you need to speak with me and I will meet you at my office as soon as practical. If I cannot, I will get word to you."

Harri stumbled slowly to the door. She stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts, and wipe her face again. Then she took a deep breath, stood straight, and left the classroom.

To her surprise, Minie, Ron, and Neville were all waiting in the corridor.

"Are you alright?" asked Minie, seeing that Harri had been crying.

"What did that git do?" demanded Ron, glaring at the closed door.

"Nothing, it's nothing. I'm crying because, because, because he gave me good news about my relatives." She hiccoughed. "They're gonna be nice to me from now on. No more locking me in my room without meals, no more beatings, no more punishments, no more hotel. . . ," she stopped abruptly and hiccoughed.

The other three exchanged puzzled glances.

"He said everything is fixed now. Everything is fine." She hiccoughed again. "Oh great, now I got the hiccoughs." She grinned at the others, her eyes a little bleary from the tears that were still coming out. Then she hiccoughed.

"We'd better get started on our assignment so we'll have the weekend free." And she hiccoughed, again.

Quidditch season at the school started on that Friday and the four teams stepped up their practices in preparation for the first games. The first match of the season was Gryffindor vs Slytherin. Wood had decided to keep her presence on the team a secret, which failed spectacularly as the entire school knew she was the Gryffindor Seeker within days of her getting her broom. The other students either said she would be brilliant at it or they said that Wood would need a special team just to fly around under her with a net in case she fell.

Draco was furious at her "special" treatment in getting to fly a broom when none of the other First Years could. He swore that next year he would be on the Slytherin team and would make it his personal goal to crush the Gryffindor team, especially her. "The only way you'll get on the team is if your father buys you a place on it!" had been Ron's retort.

Minie had been huge help to Harri. Between her constant assistance in homework and studying and the book she loaned Harri, _Quidditch Through the Ages_, Harri wasn't sure she would have survived to Sunday.

That Saturday would live forever in Harri's memory. It was a crisp, clear, cold day and she was so nervous the thought of breakfast made her blanch.

Ron and Neville tried to get her to eat something, even toast, but Harri couldn't even manage that. She was just glad that she didn't have any potions that she absolutely had to take! She was sure they would have come right back up.

The game itself, however, was just as much fun as she had expected. Once she took to the air, all her anxiety and fears disappeared. Oliver had merely told her to search for the Snitch and ignore the rest of the game, but that quickly became boring. Lee Jordan's commentary was a hoot, and, clearly, Professor McGonagall wasn't nearly as upset with him as she pretended or she would have tossed him from the announcer's booth the previous year. Idly, Harri watched the game a quarter of the way between the Gryffindor and Slytherin goal posts, glancing around searching for the Snitch at frequent intervals.

But flying was more than just floating on a broom high up in the air. Bored, she strengthened the sticking charm she was using, then waited until the Slytherins were almost at the Gryffindor goal posts. Then she tilted her broom down and blasted forward at full speed pushing the Nimbus to its best speed.

Lee was the first to notice, "Wait, has Harri seen the Snitch? She's diving almost straight down. . .." The rest of what he said she lost in the whistle of the wind past her ears as she plummeted towards the ground at breakneck speed, going faster and faster. She shot in front of the Slytherin Chaser with the Quaffle and destroyed his concentration just seconds before he threw the Quaffle. He threw the ball wildly, not even coming close to the goals.

Harri pulled up just inches from ground and shot across the pitch, losing speed until she was almost at a standstill under the Slytherin goals. The Slytherin Seeker had taken off towards Harri when she first started her dive and had overshot the Gryffindor goals as she realized Harri had been fooling her.

"A beautiful bit of interference from the Gryffindor Seeker, Harri Potter, the youngest Seeker in a century! Oliver recovers the Quaffle and passes it to Alicia Spinnet, who dodges a Bludger. . ."

Harri pulled up her broom and shot up at a steep angle, regaining her lost altitude and again cutting in front of a Slytherin Chaser and interfering in his attempt to gain the Quaffle.

Once more high above the game she looked around carefully for any sign of gold, seeing only brief flashes of reflected gold from people's watches and jewelry.

Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, glared at her, perhaps thinking he could scare her. Compared to her Uncle Vernon or Aunt 'Tunia, his glare was nothing to cause concern. Harri easily ignored him.

Then she saw it, a hint of gold at the foot of the Slytherin goal posts. She drifted sideways while pretending to look at her shoe and rubbing it with her hand, and instead getting a good look the Snitch floating just inches above the ground. She glanced over at Higgs. He was watching the game. She started dropping straight down. She waited until she was below his eye level, then flipped her broom bristles up and again dove to the ground.

The Snitch seemed to notice her and darted away from the Slytherin goals and towards the middle of the pitch.

Harri steepened her dive and tried to go faster.

"Harri's diving to the ground again, has she seen the. . . YES, there's the Snitch almost at mid-pitch on the grass. . ." Lee exclaimed.

Alerted by Jordan's announcement, the Slytherin Seeker immediately dove to intercept the Snitch. By the time he had seen the Snitch he had wasted his advantage of being closer.

The Snitch abruptly took off sideways, and both Seekers adjusted their directions to follow. The winged golden sphere reversed directions and headed back towards the Slytherin goals. Harri flipped upside down and then back upright and pulled her broom up to flatten her dive into horizontal dash to follow the Snitch. Higgs, coming in from a different direction, had to swerve to avoid a player, but still ended up almost even with Harri. The Snitch curved up in its flight and the two Seekers followed, Harri just inches ahead of Higgs. She hunched lower to her broom and tried to force a tiny bit more speed out of her broom. She reached out to grab the Snitch. . . .

WHAM! Something slammed into Harri from the side, knocking her into Higgs and causing them both to careen wildly across the pitch almost flying into the students in the stands. The Slytherin Captain had crashed into her! If not for her sticking charm, she undoubtedly would have been thrown from her broom and severely injured.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors as the stands erupted into rage at the blatant foul.

By the glare he was giving the older student Harri could see that Higgs was as upset as she was at his Captain's interference.

Nothing much happened for the next half-hour, except Harri twice more used her dive-bomb maneuvers to interfere with the Slytherins and help her team gain a few goals. The first time, Higgs had chased after her until he realized she has having him on, again. The second time he had merely checked out where she was headed and remained placidly floating above the pitch.

She had just returned to her normal position when she saw the Snitch again. This time it was floating almost directly over the Slytherin Seeker's head! The Slytherin had taken to staying close to her near the center of the field instead of circling it or staying over by the Slytherin goals.

She kept her eyes on the Seeker while letting her broom slowing drift over towards the Slytherin. She used her peripheral vision to make sure the Snitch didn't move.

"What do you want?" he sneered.

"Nothing," she answered, "just wondering if you've seen the Snitch."

He stared at her, insulted. "If I had seen it, I would have it! Now clear off, Muggle-born!"

She drifted a bit closer and turned to face him. He turned to face her.

"What's this?" she heard Lee say far below, "Looks like the Seekers are having a bit of a stand-off."

She grinned, and came up beside him. Now he was frowning, unsure of what she was doing. She kept her eyes on his face, as if she couldn't see the Snitch floating inches over his head. She had a feeling that if she looked directly at the Snitch it would immediately zip away.

"Are you sure you haven't seen the Snitch?" she asked keeping her eyes on his.

"Are you barmy?"

She lunged towards him, making him shy away in reflex, swiping her hand over his head. "Because, I did, and here it is." She let him see the wings fluttering between her fingers as she held the golden object. She headed down towards the announcer's booth, triumphantly holding her hand high.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT," shouted Jordan, "SHE CAUGHT THE SNITCH RIGHT OVER THE SLYTHERIN SEEKER'S HEAD!"

Flint, the Slytherin Captain, was furious and Harri could hear him screaming at Higgs even over the sound of the Gryffindor students celebrating their win! Gryffindor had won by two hundred and twenty points to ninety.

The celebration party in the Gryffindor Common Room that afternoon was the first time she had ever been the center of attention. And while it made her feel warm inside to have so many people coming up and congratulating her, it also made her uncomfortable being in the limelight. She tried pointing out that the rest of the team did all the hard work of battling the Slytherins, but everyone responded by saying that the team was losing until she found the Snitch.

If a doll could dance, that night her dad would have done it on hearing the details of their game! Her mum was also pleased, but urged her to keep working on her studies with Minie and her other friends.

Sunday was a nice day, overall, as she basked in the glow of winning her very first Quidditch match. Sunday dinner, though, brought her into conflict with the twins for the first time.

Dinner started out okay, but partway through she heard several students start to laugh and giggle and then quickly suppress it. Curious, she looked up. Many students were taking surreptitious looks at the High Table, so she did, too. And stared. Professor Snape's hair had turned gold and his normally pasty skin colour had become scarlet — the Gryffindor colours.

He had already discovered his condition and by his glare she knew who to blame. She quickly turned and looked over to the twins. They were trying to act innocent — that is, they were not looking at the Professor at all and were sporting great big grins. They had pranked the Professor!

Suddenly furious, she stood up and headed for the two Weasleys. Ron, Nev, and Minie leaned backwards to look down the table at her as she stalked up the twins. Sensing her approach from their neighbors' reactions, the twins turned. She glared at them as hard as Snape was.

"Hello to our favorite firstie," said one.

"What brings you to our end of the table?" said the other.

"We need to talk. _Now_."

Puzzled, but seeing that she was angry, they stood and stepped over the bench seats.

"Of course, Harri."

"Your wish is our command."

She led the way out of the Great Hall. As soon as they passed through the doors and were out of sight of the rest of the students, she turned and kicked the closest twin right in the shin.

"OW!" He bent over slightly to grab his injured leg.

Before the other twin could react with more than a stare, Harri stepped over and kicked his shin just as hard. "OW!" It was his turn to grab his shin.

"What'd you do that for!" they exclaimed.

"Professor Snape is my friend," she told them, the anger plain in her voice. "You will stop pranking him just because you don't like him."

"Your friend?"

"How can you say that?"

"His only friends are in Slytherin!"

"And we prank him because he deserves it!"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe he acts the way he does because you prank him?" she retorted.

"Nonsense, he was like this long before we arrived here!"

"The upper years will all tell you he's always been like this!"

"I don't care what he's done in the past! He's not what you think. He's my friend!"

"Really?"

"And how do you know this?"

"What has he said that makes you think he likes you?" They were very skeptical.

"He has changed my life completely, that's how! He's protected me from my relatives! I'm safe now and I won't have you attacking him because you don't like him."

"But he's always mean to us!"

"He takes points away for no reason at all, simply because he can!"

"And you egg him on with your attitude and pranks, for no reason at all but that you can!"

"He protected you?"

"From your relatives?"

She blushed. She hadn't meant to say that. "It's private, I won't say more. But I trust him with my life. And if you don't stop pranking him you won't like what I do to you! And pranking individuals to embarrass them just because you dislike them is a rotten reason to prank someone, it's juvenile, mean, and petty. A prank should be something both parties laugh at, anything else is bullying! And if you must prank someone else it should be to teach them a lesson!"

They stared at her, completely surprised at what she was saying.

"Are you challenging us to a prank war?"

"Over how we treat Snivellus Snape?"

She narrowed her eyes, "If that's what it takes, _yes_!"

They stared at each other in amazement as she stalked back into the Great Hall and returned to her dinner.

Her friends were horrified when she told them what she had said to the twins, especially Ron. "Oh, Merlin, you don't _know_ what you've done. I've been their victim for years! They never give up."

"Neither do I," was her response.

"You're just going to get into trouble, Harri, don't do it," said Hermione. "And they've got loads more experience than you do. How can you hope to beat them?"

Minie had a point, though. So, after dinner, Harri asked a portrait to request that Professor Snape meet her in his office. If she was going to be doing pranks, then she needed someone who knew far more about potions than she did.

After that, she headed over to Professor Flitwicks' office. She barely managed to make it back to her dorm before curfew. She met with each of them several times over the next few days. She even visited Professor McGonagall a couple of times.

Ron wanted nothing to do with what she planned, fearing retribution from his brothers. Hermione thought pranking was just a bad idea all around. Neville decided to follow their leads, and stayed out of it. They were her friends, they would support her, but they wouldn't help her get into trouble for no good reason.


	10. Girls Just Want to Have Fun

_Note: 9/18/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

10\. Girls Just Want to Have Fun

Three days later, at dinner, the twins discovered they couldn't stand, they were stuck to the bench. They had to slip out of their robes and trousers and escape to their dorm — fortunately, they _were_ wearing underwear. The sticking charm wore off after an hour.

The next day, partway through breakfast, their hair turned silver while their skin turned green — Slytherin colours. The colours stayed until the next morning.

Friday, their breakfast spoons and forks developed legs and mouths and spent the day following them around declaring undying love for the ones who had chosen _them_ at breakfast. The spoon gushed, "The way your tongue caressed me while eating cereal was absolutely devine," as well as many other embarrassing things during the day. Not to be outdone, the fork praised in its turn, "Your lips gently sucking my tines as you ate your eggs nearly made me swoon." The two utensils alternated speaking all day. The only times they were quiet was during class, but as soon as dismissal came, so did the perverted praise. And, the twins discovered, the silverware was too darned fast for them to hit with a vanishing spell. They both ended up with a detention for repeatedly casting spells in the halls while trying to destroy the metal pests.

Harri noted that many students gave their silverware horrified looks and selected finger foods for lunch and dinner. A few seemed to delight in freaking out their neighbors with extravagant displays of licking and sucking their utensils, mostly fifth, sixth, and seventh year witches tormenting their boyfriends. A couple of wizards did it, too.

Saturday, after their Quidditch practice, the twins' brooms suddenly started criticizing them. "What is wrong with you," said Fred's broom, "Don't you know how to handle wood in the morning?"

"Yeah," chimed in the other twin's broom, "you would think they had never played with wood in the morning. . . ."

"And the way he sat on me was disgusting, sliding up and down without any regard for my feelings at all," continued the other.

"And his grip! The things I could say about how he holds my wood!"

And it went downhill from there until the twins ran from the locker-room — grabbing their regular clothes and robes, and just bolting from the room — leaving the brooms on the floor complaining about unsatisfied they were with the twins' performance that morning. The rest of the team, howling in laughter, ended up sitting on the floor.

Sunday, Fred and George went shoeless. Their roommates spread the story that as soon as Fred put on his shoes, they began loudly proclaiming how good it felt to have Fred deep was inside them. They explained they had looked forward to this moment all night, and the wonderful feelings they got inside as he wriggled his toes was everything they had expected. Jordan told everyone the funniest bit was when Fred took his shoes off and they bitterly complained about how frustrated he had left them, and begging him to please come back and finish what he had started. George had stared at his shoes in horror and didn't even try to put them on.

Monday earned the twins 5-point losses each from Professor Snape, and a detention from Professor McGonagall, for repeatedly breaking dress-code by not wearing their robes during regular classes. Unfortunately, they discovered too late that their robes had been spelled to be invisible to everyone except themselves and each other.

Tuesday, in Transfigurations, their desks suddenly came to life and galloped out of the classroom and down the halls with them stuck in place. After the first few minutes trying to break the spells, they gave up and turned it into a race with each urging his desk to go faster. When the spell collapsed fifteen minutes later in the dungeons, the two were breathless with laughter. They earned another several detentions from Professors as they stampeded by them.

Wednesday they stumbled into breakfast, explaining that they couldn't see themselves and thus didn't know how close their toes were to table and chair legs. Breakfast itself was a challenge as they kept knocking things over as they misjudged their hands' positions. Fortunately for them, when they reached their first class they discovered they could see themselves again and could take notes and do other things. However, as soon as they left the class they disappeared to themselves again.

Thursday appeared to be the final straw. The entire Great Hall fell silent as the twins walked in covered from head to toe in long, long hair. To add insult to injury, alternating silver and green stripes slowly rippled down their bodies in a constant movement.

It must have been dreadfully awkward putting their robes on over it all. The only way you could tell they were the twins was that the two of them were exactly the same height and they came in together. They walked up to Harri, who turned around to look at them. Before they could say anything, she said, loud enough to reach most of the Hall, "Gosh, I was told that if you masturbate too much you'll grow hair on your palms. . . just what _have_ you two been doing?"

For a moment, there was stunned silence, and then the entire hall erupted. Harri saw two Slytherins fall off their benches laughing.

The twins looked at each other, and Harri could see the deep sigh they each made as their shoulders rose then dropped, although she couldn't hear anything for the noise in the Hall. After a few minutes the noise died down to sporadic giggles as the students waited to see and hear what would happen next.

The twins sank to their knees and prostrated themselves. They chorused, "Oh great Pranksteress, please forgive these two lowly squibs. We will never again attempt to prank anyone you call a friend."

Fred looked up to add, "Just please tell us whom you count as a friend so we don't accidentally prank them and incur your wrath."

Harri looked at them quietly, then said, "I'm not the one you need to apologize to." She glanced up at the high table where several professors were trying to suppress smiles, including one pasty-faced greasy-haired individual who looked as if he were about to burst with the effort not to laugh in glee.

Even through the hefty amounts of facial hair, Harri could see the twins pale as they realized what she meant. They looked at each for several moments, obviously debating what to do. Finally, with an air of resignation, they started to stand.

"Crawl," Harri commanded. "You have years of accumulated hubris to atone." And leaned close to them to add in an undertone, "It will be worth it, later, _I promise_." They stared at her for a long time. She mouthed _trust me_ to them. They glanced at each other, gave an almost imperceptible shrug, and got on their hands and knees.

It was a stunned disbelieving crowd that watched as the two red-headed pranksters who had reigned supreme for years crawled their way on hands and knees to the High Table with the Firstie Harri following them. Once at the table, they stood and bowed deeply to Professor Snape. "We are sorry for all the poorly thought out and ill-advised pranks we have pulled on you over the years, Professor Snape," said Fred, loud enough for the entire Hall to hear. "Such things were an affront to your position as Head of the Slytherin House, as well as disrespectful of you as a Professor here at Hogwarts."

"While we know you won't forgive us for all that we have done," added George.

"We ask for a truce."

"We promise not to single any person out for a prank unless they have done something that truly deserves such treatment."

"And even then we will try to teach them a lesson and not merely embarrass them."

"Should it be someone from your House, we will consult with you in advance."

"Please accept our humble apologies for our past conduct," they concluded together.

They stood with bowed heads.

Professor Snape sat staring at them, sneering. Harri could see he was barely controlling his glee at his worst enemies at Hogwarts being humbled before him for all to see. Harri wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say, so she added in a soft voice that barely carried to him, "Play nice."

He glared at her. She looked back calmly. He returned his attention to the twins, nodding graciously. "Truce," he said, "And tomorrow you will have a one-hour detention with me to — discuss — how we shall go forward with this."

Harri stared at him intently.

He frowned at her.

The twins looked at the two, puzzled. There was something going on, but they were clueless.

Still frowning, Professor Snape turned his attention to his plate and ignored them.

The three students headed back to the Gryffindor table. Harri reached inside her robes and pulled out two small potion bottles. She handed one to each twin.

Taking the hint, they drank them, and gave her back the empty bottles.

"Without that potion you would have been as hairless as an egg tomorrow, and an eye-bleeding bright pink." By the time they finished dinner, the twins' had returned to their normal appearances.

She refused to answer any questions about how she had done the pranks, and who had taught them to her.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The twins were astonished to see Harri waiting for them in Snape's Office. He sat sneering at them while Harri spoke.

"Professor Snape and I have an agreement, which I have no intention of explaining to you. The truce was my idea." She paused a moment.

"You know how everyone complains about how 'unfair' Professor Snape is, and how he clearly favors his house over all others? I asked him about that.

"Have you noticed the way Slytherin students are treated everywhere _but_ his classes? You complain about how unfair Professor Snape is in giving points only to Slytherins and taking them from the other Houses, but when was the last time you saw Professor McGonagall give points to a Slytherin? The other Houses? Yes. Slytherin? Not so much. You complain about how Professor Snape rarely criticizes a Slytherin student, but when was the last time you heard Professor Sprout compliment a Slytherin?" She stopped and looked at them. "Professor Flitwick is the only Professor I've heard give points to Slytherin for anything. And if you checked the record you'd see that Ravenclaws seem to fair better in Professor Snape's classes than the other two houses."

They both wore frowns, "Well, there was the time that. . . no, that's not right. Then there was. . . no, not then either," said Fred. He turned and looked at his brother.

"I'm drawin' a blank, too," said George.

"So, perhaps there's a reason for his blatant favoritism, right?"

They slowly nodded.

"Here's my idea. Professor Snape — and as he put it, 'against his better judgment' — has graciously agreed to reduce the obvious favoritism in his classes, but only if he sees an equal drop in the other classes. That means you two are going to start drawing attention to when Slytherin students are cheated out of points. I will do the same in my classes."

The discussion lasted for well past the deadline set for the twins' detention, but they didn't seem to mind. Professor Snape was still sarcastic, but nowhere near the levels the twins were used to hearing in his dungeons classroom and in the halls.

They were stunned when at the end of the meeting, Professor Snape handed them a parchment as Harri explained, "That's the potion we used on you yesterday. And the antidote."

"Having a world-class Potions Professor available to review your new potions and help work out the kinks before you use them could be quite helpful," she added as the twins left the office. They hesitated before closing the door and returning to their dorm.

She turned back to the Professor. "Thank you," she said, "If we can get your Slytherin students to tone down their attitudes, we might be able to pull this off." She didn't bother going back over their previous conversations, he remembered them as well as she did.

She had pointed out that it was better to co-opt an enemy into being an ally than to leave him far away and unsupervised. And that making enemies of three-quarters of the population was just plain _stupid_.

Plus, the twins were actually quite good at potions. With a little effort, he might get them to assist him with some of his more complicated potions in exchange for the experience. Or get them to grade some of the first and second year assignments in exchange for his advice on their potions. The more papers _they_ corrected, the more time he would have for other pursuits. And their unorthodox thinking might give him insights he might miss in his own research.

Not to mention that if he did any of those he would never have to worry about pranks in his classes. The twins wouldn't want to jeopardize their access to his knowledge.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

On the fifteenth, a Friday, she received an owl from her solicitor. Her income had dropped off dramatically. Not unexpected, given that the peak selling season for Hogwarts students was July and August. It was still a respectable amount, though, consisting mainly of sales from the new store in Hogsmeade, almost fifty galleons total royalties just in quill sales! It seemed many of the older students wanted quills that didn't spill or splotch ink — ever-fulls were blasé. Christmas sales would make for a nice start to the next term. Tonks included a note that the twenty galleons from the orphan's part of the store profits had been retained for store operations, that she would get a payout on store profits next September.

Again, she did not get an owl from Gringotts and this concerned her. Banks are supposed to be punctual. She jotted a quick note to Tonks asking her to look into why she wasn't getting statements from Gringotts on her various accounts. The Grunnings Drills' accountants had always made a point of going over the bank deposit statements line-by-line to make sure there were no mistakes. Rarely, they found an error. But it did happen, so they checked thoroughly. She would be stupid not to follow their lead.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Christmas was fast approaching, but the winter storms and snows were already blasting the castle. Quidditch practices were grueling, requiring frequent applications of heating charms to keep the team members from getting frostbite. The cold also made it much more difficult to handle the Quaffle and bats. But Harri and the team didn't slack off.

The classes were also cold, especially Potions in the dungeons. The students became quite adept at casting warming charms on themselves and so didn't mind the cold nearly so much. Harri wondered why the Castle didn't use the heat far underground to keep the halls and rooms warm, like some Muggle companies did to their buildings. It shouldn't be that difficult a charm to set up, no worse than the wards that already existed. Oh, well, maybe they considered it good magic practice for the students.

The Friday after the fifteenth, she got another owl form her solicitor. According to the letter, she should have received at least three owls from Gringotts about her finances. Each one should have arrived on the same day as the owls from Tonks. The letter said Gringotts was resending the statements. Harri waited a week, then sent a note explaining she still hadn't received anything from Gringotts. The reply came the next day. Gringotts was starting an investigation into why their owls were not arriving, but Tonks' were.

A week later, _The Daily Prophet_ featured a headline story that someone had been stealing Harry Potter's owl mail for over a decade, and people were in an uproar. Harri didn't think much about it. She didn't care, really, about the statements from her bank from the last decade. She only wanted her new statements, the ones telling her how her new investments were working out.

"That dirty rat! No wonder we never got a response to our birthday cards. That bloody bastard's been nicking 'em!" Seamus threw down his copy of the newspaper in disgust.

Ron was livid. "Poor Ginny, this is going to crush her. She used to include her allowance for the month, a whole sickle, no matter how much mum tried to discourage her, as a present to her hero on his birthday." Other students chimed in with stories of sending cards at Christmas and small gifts as thank you's for delivering them from He-Who-Must-Not -Be-Named.

"You sent birthday cards to Harry Potter?" The other student's reactions left Harri blinking in surprise.

"Of course we did! He's a hero. There's many a Wizard and Witch who know for a fact they would be dead if Harry Potter hadn't killed You-Know-Who. You think they wouldn't _want_ to send a thank you card on his birthday?" retorted Seamus.

"I wonder what happened to all that stuff?" mushed Harri. She hadn't seen it in her vaults, that was sure. The rest of her day passed in a daze as she tried to come to terms with the thought that people she didn't even know had sent her presents. That she never got them was immaterial to her, it was the thought that they had sent them in the first place that shook her. Nobody had ever given her anything before.

_The Daily Prophet_ promised to follow the case closely.

Classes continued as always, with lots of assignments. The only real conflicts were in Potions with the Slytherins. Draco and Pansy frequently teamed up in Potions and always seemed to have the table beside Harri's. Pansy took every opportunity to belittle Harri and Hermione while Draco tormented Ron. Draco ignored Neville as Neville usually just flushed red in embarrassment where Ron, well, Ron rose to the baiting as readily as a hungry fish to a fisherman's hook.

They were now almost into the school holidays for the year-end.

"It will be such a relief to leave this dreary rock pile for home, don't you agree, Draco?" said Pansy. "I can't imagine staying here, freezing, instead of cozying up to a warm fire with my loving family, drinking hot chocolate, and going holiday shopping." She eyed Harri for her reaction. "I feel so sorry for those who are stuck here because their family doesn't want them. Or they're too poor to pay the miniscule fee to travel home."

By now the list of students staying at the school over the holiday break was out and everyone knew that the Weasley clan was staying at the school, as was Harri. The Weasleys were staying because their parents were going to Romania to visit their son Charlie.

Harri looked at the witch in surprise. Why on _earth_ would she _want_ to go home to the Dursleys? And poor? A vague smile touches her lips, if the stupid witch only knew!

Ron, though, was livid and barely controlling his temper. He turned towards the witch and started to move closer, "Listen, you harridan," he growled.

"Mister Weasley! Pay attention to your own cauldron, two points from Gryffindor for attempting to distract another student," murmured Professor Snape. How he had so suddenly appeared behind them, mystified the Gryffindors. Harri could have sworn he was on the other side of the dungeon. Draco and Pansy both smirked. "Miss Parkinson," the Professor continued, "pay attention to your own cauldron."

Later, in the corridor outside the classroom, Pansy started anew, "I am _so_ looking forward to _all_ the parties we'll go to over the break, Draco. Don't you?"

Draco looked at Pansy for a moment, "Oh, yes, especially the Solstice Party. It'll be so much fun to see all our friends and relatives." He turned slightly to face Harri and her friends. "And it lasts all day until midnight! A bit tiring, but more than worth it considering all the games and presents."

Ron glowered at the Draco and Pansy. Neville was looking nervous and obviously wished to be elsewhere. Hermione was looking back and forth between her friends and the other two, unsure if she should interfere. She put a hand on Ron's arm to keep him from doing something dumb. Harri wasn't sure he noticed.

Harri frowned at that. A Solstice Party? What was that? Then she smiled. "That sounds wonderful," she said. "I wonder if the Professors will have a Solstice Party here? I'll have to ask them if we can have one if they don't usually. And just imagine, we won't have all those adults telling us what to do and when to do it!" The students had learned early in the year that the staff attitude was "hands off" for most activities in the Dorms, with just enough supervision to tell them to go to bed when it became late.

The Slytherins stared at her, confused. They weren't used to a victim agreeing with them. It took all the fun out of taunting.

"And I would think that going to party after party would get boring, actually," Harri continued. She remembered how much Dudley had hated his parents dragging him to parties with the sole reason for his presence being that they wanted to show him off to their _friends_. Or worse, people they wanted to impress. "Especially those parties where you get dressed up in uncomfortable, stiff formal clothes, and have to act like the _perfect_ child, sitting quietly for hours on end as the grownups talk about boring stuff like politics or business." She paused.

Draco and Pansy both glared at her. She had hit a soft spot. Ron and Neville were staring at her in amazement. Minie was just looking back and forth, worrying her lip with her teeth.

"And dinner parties! My cousin hated those with a passion. Stuck sitting at a table for hours with nothing to do! Eating those strange things adults like that taste just yucky. How many of your holiday parties are dinner parties?" She paused again, but not long enough for either of the Slytherins to reply. "Personally, I'm looking forward to being here at the castle with my friends. We're going to explore every nook and cranny, eat when we want, sleep when we want, play when we want. And we can stay awake all night for New Year's if we want. It'll be a mini-vacation without parents to screw around with us telling us we can't do one thing because they made plans for us to do something else that's totally boring!"

The two Slytherins stared at her stonily, and then turned and stalked off.

"Harri!" said Ron, "That was brilliant!" Neville nodded in agreement. They, too, usually had formal parties to attend during the holidays, and knew exactly what Harri meant about parents making plans for them.

The quartet headed for the Great Hall where Hagrid proudly showed them the trees he had brought in and how the Professors had decorated the hall.

"I just wish you could be here too, Nev, Minie," said Harri. "Which holidays do you celebrate — Solstice or Christmas, Neville?"

"We celebrate Solstice and New Year's," the pudgy boy replied. "Gran and I usually spend them with our family. Gran's not very big on parties, you see. We do go to a few though. And you're right, they're usually monumentally boring. And I just hate the ballroom parties! _Dancing_." He shuddered.

Harri thought dancing might be fun. Maybe she could talk Ron into showing her what he knew. "Maybe you can get your Gran to let you visit us here for a few days."

Neville perked up at that thought.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Hogwarts felt strange being so empty after everyone else left. Ron and Harri had no problems adapting. They spent their time, as she had said, exploring the castle — they had made a primitive map and added things as they found them — eating whenever the mood struck, sleeping late, sitting in front of the Common Room Hearth in the most comfortable chairs usually occupied by the senior students, and talking. Ron taught her chess, which she was absolutely rubbish at, even with the handicaps Ron gave to her. She would never be as good as him, but it was fun learning.

Harri loved listening to Ron's stories about his family. Occasionally, the twins would join them to add stories of their exploits. The twins were gobsmacked when she finally told them that Professors Snape, Flitwick, and McGonagall had helped her with her pranks. She had done the work, but they had taught her the charms and potions.

She didn't tell them that some of the pranks had been her Dad's ideas, especially the really rude commentary. Her mum had been displeased about the language, but couldn't help adding a few suggestions herself once they got into the details. The tipping point had been that the purpose of the pranks was to get the twins to change what they did and were not simply to be mean.

She and Ron visited the Clubroom several times, usually to do research on the papers they had due after the holidays — but at least they didn't have to sandwich the homework between other obligations like parties and family visits.

The Clubroom bookcase was just so much more useful than the library. It seemed to have more books than the library. Harri also used it learn new spells. She found a charm that would make an object glow, get warm, or turn a color when an animagus wizard or witch was in the same room or within fifty feet. She cast it on a galleon that she sewed inside her skirt waist. She found similar charms for detecting _Notice-Me-Not_ and invisibility spells. One thin book she found, titled simply _Blood Magic_, had details on how to use one's blood to increase the power or longevity of almost any spell. She decided she needed to get a ring with three stones in it that she could wear, or maybe three thin rings that fit together. She would cast one of those detection spells on each stone. It would be much easier and more convenient than trying to keep track of galleons or other items.

Sadly, there were only thirteen students staying over the holidays. As a result, the Headmaster vetoed the idea of a Solstice or Christmas party. Instead, he said he expected them to join everyone in a dinner feast on those two days. Any exchanging of gifts would be private affairs. He did, though, suggest a few reference books about the Solstice celebration to her.

Christmas morning arrived bright and early, with her waking before the sun rose.

She stared at the pile of gaily-wrapped boxes at the end of her bed. She crawled down the length of her bed to look at it. Hesitantly, she picked up the package on the top. It didn't have a tag, scrawled across it was, "To Harri, From Hagrid." She stared at it for a long time. She had presents? She slowly and carefully peeled the wrapping off to see a handmade wooden flute. She cried. She couldn't help it. Someone cared enough to send her, _her_, a present. And not just any present, but one they made by _hand_! Hagrid was truly a friend.

Harri, of course, had been very careful to make sure she bought gifts for her friends. Now that she had money, and someone trustworthy, she could make a list, supply money, and expect that things would be done. Her solicitor had made her purchases for her, and delivered them to the proper people. Harri, however, hadn't expected anyone to send _her_ a present.

She had learned, from watching her aunt, to divide presents into three categories: those for family, which always were carefully considered; those for friends, which required paying only a little attention to make sure you didn't get them something they hated; and business, which usually meant liquor or business related items.

For her friends, Minie, Ron, Neville, and the Weasley twins, she had purchased wand-holders just like hers. After the troll incident, she didn't want to take a chance that any of her friends wouldn't have their wand immediately at hand. For everyone else in her year she had given a box with Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Cauldron Cakes, and Licorice Wands. For the Gryffindor students not in her year, she had just given them Chocolate Frogs. Hagrid had been the hardest, but she finally settled on a gift certificate to his favorite Pub in Hogsmeade.

Andromeda Tonks, her solicitor, had handled everything for her. All she had to do was provide the list. While she was doing that, she also suggested that Tonks contact one of the broom manufacturers and set up a line of "Harry Potter Brooms" and get them to donate new "beginners" brooms to Hogwarts to replace the aged and failing current ones, as well as four sets of high-quality Quidditch brooms for the House teams. The press exposure alone would more than pay for the brooms, and the exposure of impressionable children to their brand would reap rewards far outstripping their costs. The perfect time to announce the deal, she thought, would be in July, just as the selling season started for Hogwarts.

Plans for the "Fourth Year" Quills were set, and would include spells to let you cut, copy, and paste letters and words. It was just a matter starting production in the summer. The new-product announcement and advertisements would hit in July and August.

Hermione's present to Harri was a package of three pairs of new Witch knickers. Ron had given her three chocolate frogs and a stack of four hundred and twelve collectable cards in prime condition - all extras and duplicates of ones he and his brothers had collected over the years. Neville's present was a black ink-bottle for her never-out-of-ink quill and a thick roll of parchment. She found herself crying after opening each present. The only present she didn't cry over was the one from the Dursleys, a grey skirt and blouse combination, and a Gameboy from Dudley — those she set aside in amazed surprise.

She was stunned to see that Ron's mother had sent, to her, a complete stranger, a hand-knitted emerald green sweater and a box of home-made fudge! Harri didn't know what to think about that. She took back all the rude things she had thought about the woman.

There were another dozen presents from her Dorm mates, mostly candy.

One mysterious present had a cloak in it of some strange silvery cloth. It was only when she put it on that she discovered it made her invisible! The included note didn't clear up the mystery, but did say it used to belong to her Dad. She would ask him tonight if he knew who might have sent her the cloak.

As she had seen her aunt do, she made a list of who had sent her a present, so she could thank them later. If someone cared enough to send a present, then she wanted to make sure she let them know how much she appreciated the thought.

She grabbed her new knickers, sweater, and the cloak to show Ron in the Common Room. When she got down there, his brothers were already in attendance and showing off their presents. She decided to show Ron the cloak later, in the Clubroom.

Ron told her his mother had sent the sweater because he had mentioned in a letter that Harri didn't expect anything for Christmas. As a result, his mother had sent Harri a sweater because no child should go through Christmas without presents.

Her gifts of wand holsters to Ron and the twins had left them nearly speechless. Percy had been envious but had joined his brothers in thanking her profusely.

He refused to let her model her knickers for him in his dorm room when she suggested it in a whisper. He was afraid of the trouble he would get in if one of his brothers wandered by. The charm on the staircase that prevented boys from using it to get to the Witches Dorm prohibited the use of her Dorm. "Clubroom, later," was his suggestion.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was fabulous, with loads of party favors that likes of which Harri had never seen or heard.

The rest of the morning and afternoon she spent with Ron's family at the Gryffindor table and running around in the Great Hall. She even managed to get Percy to play a few games with her on a new chess set that she got. She also told them what she knew about Fluffy and what he was guarding. Percy was horrified, both at the presence of the three-headed dog and the Philosopher's Stone, opining that the Stone might be safer with the Unspeakables at the Ministry. Fred and George quickly disagreed, and the argument raged for a while. Percy, she decided, like Hermione, had far too much faith in authority.

Then she told them about how she always had a headache after one of Professor Quirrell's DADA classes or when she met him in the halls.

Dinner was as much fun as breakfast and left them too stuffed to do more than head back to their dorm to sit around and talk in front of the fire.

Harri dragged Ron in a different direction as they left the Great Hall.

Fred called, "Don't do anything. . ."

". . . we wouldn't do," finished George.

Harri turned and walked backwards while giving them a ripe raspberry.

Ron mumbled, "Well, that doesn't leave much not to do, does it?"

"Come on, Ron, you won't believe one of the presents I got!"

As soon as the door closed, she pulled the cloak out of her shoulder bag.

"Blimey!" he exclaimed, "An invisibility cloak. Those are as rare as hen's teeth and a thousand times more expensive!"

They played with the cloak for a few minutes and discussed how useful it would be for sneaking around after curfew, not that they did much of that, but still!

After stuffing the cloak back into her shoulder bag, Harri spun on her toes, and ran to the platform. "Come on, hurry, I want to try on the new knickers! I can't wait to see them move!" As Ron walked over, she opened the package and took out the first pair. The package was Quidditch-themed and this pair had a dozen or so Snitches. She dropped the other two on the platform, and quickly shoved down the ones she was wearing, unbuttoning and dropping her skirt at the same time. She kicked off the old ones and lifted her foot to slide on the new knickers. She had pulled the new knickers up to her knees when she realized that Ron had stopped moving and was staring at them. She looked again, but the Snitches weren't moving yet. She looked back up in time to see him flush bright pink and turn his back to her.

"Is something wrong, Ron?"

"Uh, no," he replied, his voice sounding choked.

"Well, then, turn around."

"Are you wearing the knickers yet?"

She pulled them all the up, "Yeah."

He turned to face her, managing to look relieved and disappointed at the same time.

With Harri standing on the small platform, it put her knickers at about eye height for Ron if he stood beside it. She tied her blouse tails at her waist. They both watched the Snitches flying around for a minute, Ron's color slowly returning to normal. Harri did so enjoy watching the animated creatures flying around on her knickers, and she wanted to share that with others.

"Hand me the next pair," she ordered Ron. He turned and bent down to pick up one of the two, not noticing that she was sliding down and dropped the pair she had on to her feet as he did so.

Straightening, he turned to hand the next pair to her. "Ulp," he said as he suddenly realized his nose was nearly in a part of her anatomy that he hadn't expected to see exposed. Turning as red as his hair, he spun around to face the other way and held the knickers over his head for her to grab.

"Something wrong?" she asked, taking the knickers from him.

"Uh," he said, "you really shouldn't stand naked like that around wizards."

"Why?" she asked, her tone clearly conveying she had no idea what he meant. "And I'm not naked, I still have my blouse on."

"Um, well, uh, yeah," he stammered, "It's just not done. Blimey, you're not supposed to let wizards see that part of you, it's just not done. Some wizards will get the wrong idea if you do that."

"What do you mean?" Harri was confused. None of the men she had met at the hotel, many strangers, had ever batted an eye at seeing her naked, in fact they had expected her to be naked. Why should her friends be concerned that she was naked in front of them? They were her friends, after all.

"Well, um, they'll stare at you because most witches never let wizards see them naked, except maybe their boyfriend or husband."

Harri stood thinking, the forgotten knickers dangling from her fingers. If most wizards had never seen a naked witch, then they _would_ stare at one who was naked. That made sense. Seeing something you had never seen before resulted in staring. And the few times one of the men at the hotel had brought along a son, "to give him some experience," the boys had practically never stopped staring at her.

"Also," Ron continued hesitantly, "Most witches would be embarrassed if a wizard saw them like you are now."

That, Harri simply did not understand. Embarrassed simply because someone saw them without clothes? Why?

That last thought she must have said out loud, she realized, as Ron answered, "Because they're not supposed to let wizards see them naked."

"That makes no sense!"

Ron shrugged.

"I mean, that would be like saying you would be embarrassed if I saw you naked!" God knows, she had seen enough naked men that seeing another was nothing special.

He didn't reply.

"Would you?"

She saw the back of his neck flush. His face must be beet red, she realized, for a blush to reach that far! "Why?" she asked, puzzled and even more confused. None of the men she had seen over the years had ever been embarrassed to be naked in front of her. Most had seemed most proud, even the grossest ones, as if she should be impressed because they had willies that stood up.

He just stood there.

"Come on," she coaxed quietly, "Why would you be embarrassed to be naked in front of me?"

"Because!" He was clearly flustered and didn't know what to say.

"Because why?"

"Because!" He was getting even more flustered.

"Ron," she said, in a reasonable tone, "I _really_ don't understand. _Please_, . . . why?"

He stood quietly for a few moments, sighed deeply, then, almost shouting, said, "Because you might laugh, okay?" He paused, then whispered, "Or be upset that I had a. . . you know."

She sat on the platform edge, sighing. "Ron, turn around." He didn't. "Ron, you're my friend, just like Minie, Nev, and Hagrid. I would never laugh at you just because you were naked." She paused. "Well, not unless you did something like paint the Union Jack on your arse, painted your willy to look like a Barber Pole, or did something else equally silly. Now, turn around and look at me. You're completely dressed and have nothing to be embarrassed about."

He slowly turned around, his head down until he realized he was looking at her naked crotch, then he jerked his head up and look in her eyes.

"That's better." She watched his blush slowly receded. "Ron, I don't care if you see me naked. I don't care if you look at me naked. Look all you want. I'm your friend. I trust you. Heck, if you really haven't seen a naked girl before, here, take a gander." She quickly slipped out of her blouse leaving her completely nude.

Ron gaped at her, quickly acquiring the deer-in-headlight look.

She grinned, it was rather funny how boys did that. She looked down at her chest and sighed. They weren't very big, barely as large as hens eggs. She put her hands under them and lifted slightly. "I really don't like my tits. Ever since I got them, they would just use them as something to grab and pull me around. Or bite them. Or twist." She let go and rested her hands on the platform beside her knees. "I wish I didn't have them at all. But, what're you gonna do? I can't get rid of them. And from what I've read, they're only going to get bigger as I get older." She sighed.

She noticed Ron wasn't looking at her tits anymore; he was looking in her eyes, frowning. "Who would do that," he asked, hesitantly, "bite them, I mean."

She blinked at him. "Men," she said finally, "but I'd rather not talk about that." She looked up at the clock for a minute.

"But you can look," she continued. "You can even touch them if you want, I don't mind. Just be gentle, they're sensitive. Just imagine what it would be like if someone grabbed your nuts and squeezed."

The young wizard blinked several times, and then hesitantly lifted a hand to stroke a finger down the side of one breast. He cupped his hand and fondled it for a moment. Then he stroked his thumb across the nipple a couple of times.

"Blimey. That. . . feels. . . really nice," he said softly. "What's it feel like to you?"

She reached out and ran her hand on his other arm. "What's that feel like?"

"Like someone's hand rubbing my arm."

"Nothing special, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, there's your answer."

"Oh." He looked at his hand on her breast. He raised his other hand and started playing with her other breast. "Wow."

She looked down between them, and grinned. He must like what he was seeing and doing because something was making his pants tent out. And she knew what it was. But this time, she could say no. She needed neither Mum's Confidence nor Dad's Consequences.

"Well, anyway," she said standing up, "let's get back to the knickers."

He watched as she put on the knickers, although his face flamed red the entire time and he kept looking away and then quickly looking back.

The knickers were of Quidditch Witch Beaters hitting Bludgers back and forth. They tried to dodge, but Ron and Harri managed to corral them all on the front. The last knickers featured Quidditch Witch Chasers after a Quaffle.

They left for the Gryffindor Dorm a few minutes later, because, as Ron said, "We don't want the twins to get it into their heads to look for us."

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The next day, after reading one of the Solstice books in the Clubroom, Harri decided to wander a bit by herself. Ron was off doing something that his brothers had insisted he do with them. She thought about what she might want to do to celebrate the Solstice next year. Then she found the odd mirror in a deserted classroom far from trafficked areas.

Expecting to see herself, she instead saw a naked boy. After a moment, she realized it was her, green eyes, lightning scar, glasses, and short hair. Slowly, other people began to appear, except they were dressed. First were a man and a woman. It took her a minute to figure out they must be her real parents — the woman looked like an older version of her without glasses but with green eyes. She kinda resembled Aunt 'Tunia , except much prettier. Aunt 'Tunia must take after _her_ father while Harri's mother took after _her_ mother.

Harri could see that she got her hair and complexion from the man. Then Hagrid appeared. Then Hermione, Ron, and Neville. Eventually the mirror was filled with people, all laughing and waving at her happily.

Waking the next morning, she realized that for the first time in ages she hadn't had a nightmare. She woke from a dream that left her warm and happy.

The next day, after breakfast, she dragged Ron with her to see the mirror. He saw himself as a Quidditch Captain, Headboy, and an all-around wildly successful person, with his family standing around him in awe. That was when she noticed the odd writing around the rim and they discovered that the mirror showed them what they _desired_ and not reality.

Reflecting on that, it made sense. In the mirror, she was a naked boy to prove that she wasn't merely cross-dressing. Being a boy, after all, was what she wanted more than anything. Moreover, wanting family and friends, of course, would be part of almost anyone's future desire.

She returned a few more times over the next week to look at her parents, until the Headmaster caught her at it. It was gone when she checked the next day.

Ron was fascinated with breasts, Harri discovered. He had asked her several times, very politely, if he could "see" them again. She had indulged him in the Clubroom, and let him fondle them for while each time. She didn't see the appeal to them, herself, but if it made him happy, why not? He was her friend and it didn't inconvenience her at all, she just thought about the spells she was researching and learning.

The last day before the students returned, looking at his tented pants after one such session, she asked, "You obviously have an erection, why don't you masturbate?"

He had gotten all flustered and upset, pretending he didn't know what she meant.

"Oh, come on Ron," she had said, "Everyone masturbates, it feels too good not to. I started when I was seven."

"You. . . _masturbate_?" Ron had a hard time actually saying the word, it came out almost as a whisper.

"Sure, most girls do. Some don't because they don't discover how good it feels until they're older." She paused. "I. . . discovered it. . . quite young." She didn't want to talk about that. Ron hadn't said much as they walked back to the Great Hall for dinner.

Overall, Harri decided that this had been the best Christmas she had ever had.


	11. Appearances Are Deceiving

_Note: 2/16/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

_Oops, this chapter was messed up and another chapter loaded in its place. That is now fixed. Sorry for the confusion._

**11\. Appearances Are Deceiving**

The end of the holidays in early January brought a renewal of the rounds of classes, assignments, and Quidditch practices for Harri, with only an hour or two a day — if even that — for relaxation. Sadly, she had to reduce her flute practice to once a week, when she could manage it, to when she visited Hagrid. Her dorm mates found her practice hard to take, but Hagrid was an appreciative audience.

Classes had been going for almost a week when, after dinner, Hermione had said, "Harri, we need to talk, okay?" And nodded her head sideways at the Common Room door. They had decided not to mention the Clubroom for fear someone might overhear and want to know about this "clubroom." So, they just talked around it, instead, using hand gestures or head shakes to indicate there was more to what was said than appeared.

"Sure." And the two headed over to the Clubroom.

Moments after they arrived, Ron and Neville came in. The three looked at each other, then at Harri. The green-eyed witch began to suspect something more at hand than simply Minie wanting to talk. Was this a time for Consequences? She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath to prepare for whatever the other three were about to spring on her. She walked over to the corner couch and sat down. Guardedly, she asked, "What's up?"

The other three joined her, sitting on the other half of the couch with the bushy-haired girl closest, and looking determined. Ron looked guilty, Neville was just nervous. This wasn't looking good for Harri.

"Harri," Hermione started, looking at the two boys briefly, "We've noticed you never talk about your folks or your home very much." She swallowed. "From what little you've said, it doesn't sound like things are very good for you there. Plus, some of the things you do say aren't, well, what we expect." She stopped and took a breath.

"Ron told us about you. . . showing him your breasts. And saying something about men hurting you."

Harri stared at her, face carefully blank.

Hermione looked down at her hands. "When Madam Pomfrey talked with us that day in the Hospital Wing, I thought something was wrong. So, I. . . got some books from the library during hols and did some research." She looked back up at Harri, regretfully. "You show the classic signs of someone who has been severely abused for a long time. They're obvious once you know what to look for."

Harri's feet were cold. She stared at Hermione's knees. They were nice knees. What should she say? What could she say? Deny it? No, couldn't do that, that was lying and Consequence knew well enough that getting caught lying made the penalties much, much worse.

"What the books I read say is that it's better for you to talk out what happened, that to try to keep it all bound up inside you will just tear you up inside. It'll build and build and build and then one day you'll just explode. And you might not be able to put the pieces back together again. By talking, you're letting off the pressure."

Harri's hands were cold, too. In fact, she was cold all over. How could she talk about it? They would hate her if they knew. Sure the men and women at the hotel had liked her, too, but not as a friend. They had liked her for her easy compliance with what they wanted. Her as a person they had no interest in at all. She had overheard them many times talking when they thought she wouldn't hear or was asleep in exhaustion. And what they said wasn't nice at all. And had reinforced what Uncle Vernon had always said. She was a vile person, not fit for being in the presence of _normal_ people.

"The books also said one big fear is discovery, the fear that if others knew what had happened to you that they would judge you as worthless, as less than a person, as if you somehow deserved what happened to you. The fear that all your friends will just leave you."

Harri was barely breathing, it took all her effort to force air in and out. _Here it comes_, she knew, _get prepared_, she thought. It was a wonderful four months, two weeks, three days, and eighteen hours, but it was over now. Time to get used to being alone again, except maybe Hagrid. Hagrid wouldn't leave her. She hoped. Maybe she was having a nightmare? Could that be it? Yeah, a nightmare! She sternly ordered herself to wake up.

"We're your friends, we won't leave you." Hermione leaned forward and grabbed Harri's hand.

Harri's hand was so cold that Hermione's hand felt hot, almost burning hot. _What?_ Consequences was shocked.

"You're my friend, Harri. You're the first true friend I've ever had. You fought a _troll_ for me. I will never leave you. Believe me! No matter what you do, I will stay right there with you. And so will Ron and Neville — they fought the troll, too, when they could have just gone back to the Dorms. But they went looking for you and me because they're our _friends_, your _friends_."

Harri's eyes were watery, there must be something in the air irritating them. She must be hallucinating. She couldn't have heard correctly, she must have misunderstood. They _weren't_ leaving?

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to, we just wanted you to know that you're our friend and. . . if you do want someone to talk to, well, we're here. We want to help you, just like you want to help us, even if that's only listening while you talk. What happened to you wasn't your fault, and we know it. We're here for you when you're ready to talk."

Harri wiped at her eyes. She was not crying. She wouldn't. She had had enough crying this year already. She had cried more in the last six months than in the previous six years. Maybe she wasn't hallucinating. Or dreaming.

"The books said that it is easiest to start with something simple and unimportant, just to get started. You don't have to say anything now, if you don't want. I know we sprang this on you suddenly, but we wanted you to know you can depend on us when you need it. And that whatever happened to you won't change our friendship at all. Ever. Okay?"

Harri nodded, and clutched Hermione's hand.

"And we know you don't want to talk about it, but you really should, for your own good. Okay?"

They sat in silence for a while. Harri heard the boys shift positions several times, but she couldn't get herself to move. What could she say that wouldn't drive them away in horror? While Minie _said_ they wouldn't leave, once they heard about all the things she had done, how could they _not_ want to leave in disgust? What she did had disgusted even the men and women in the hotel, and they avoided her like a leper on those rare occasions she saw them in the hotel lobby. They all pretended she wasn't even there when she was in front of them. Even TFS had made her walk several steps behind him in an effort to get people to think she was someone merely headed in the same direction and not related to him at all.

"Hugs," Harri finally whispered.

"Hugs?" questioned her best friend, giving a puzzled look to the boys.

"They never hugged me," Harri whispered. Held her down, held her up, held her against the wall, trapped her in place, lay on top of her until she could barely breathe, all those things, yes, but actually just hugged? Never. And anytime anyone did hold her in what might be called a hug it soon led to things she didn't want to remember.

Hermione didn't pause, she scooted quickly over to the green-eyed small girl and practically pulled Harri into her lap, wrapping her arms around her and holding her.

Harri sat stiffly, not knowing what to do next. Hesitantly, she placed an arm around Minie's neck and cautiously leaned against her.

Normally, whenever she was in this position, the other person played a bit with her breasts and then reached between her legs to play there. Just sitting here, doing nothing, was. . . strange. And, kinda nice. She relaxed a bit more and closed her eyes. Harri missed Hermione signaling the boys, practically ordering them to _get over here!_

The first Harri realized the boys had moved was when Nev settled to Minie's right and awkwardly wrapped an arm around Harri while pressing against her back. Unlike other times someone had done something similar, he just rested his hand on Minie's upper arm.

Ron took Minie's other side and wrapped his arm around Harri's waist. She felt as the three maneuvered around her a bit until they were all comfortable. Minie ended up with three arms around the back of her neck and hidden from view should anyone else have come into the room.

And then they just sat there, not saying a word. After a minute Harri realized she was crying again — dammit!

Eventually, Ron said, "Um, I think my arm has fallen asleep," as he pulled his arm from around Minie's neck. "Ack, pins and needles." He rolled his shoulder and massaged his arm with his other hand. A moment later Nev did the same. Hermione glared at the two boys.

"Um, yeah," mumbled Harri, rubbing her face and wiping her tears away. "I, uh, have a potions essay, uh, I need to start." She sniffed as she awkwardly slid off Minie's lap. Standing she looked at Minie and the boys through her fringe. "Um, thanks."

Minie looked up at her steadily, "Anytime, Harri, anytime." She paused, "Anytime you want a hug, anywhere, anytime, just say so. I'll never say no. And neither will they." She glared at each of the boys, daring them to say otherwise. "Okay?"

Harri looked at the clock over the invisible door, "Yeah." She went over to her desk, and pulled out a parchment and grabbed her quill. She stared at the parchment for a long time before writing the title. By the time the clock alerted them to curfew, she had managed to finish one sentence.

From the looks of things, as she put her materials away, the others had accomplished almost as much.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The following Monday Draco hexed Neville with the Leglocker Spell. His wand being in his arm holster instead of his pants pocket had been his salvation. Instead of having to hop all the way from the library to the dorm to get someone to perform the counter-curse, he had been able to do it himself almost immediately.

It had taken Hermione a short bit of research in the Clubroom to come up with a useable counter-spell to a sneak hex attack — _Imago_ —which bounced any spell that hit the charm back to the caster. It took them a couple of hours, but by the end of the next day, the quartet had charmed all their clothes.

Harri had gone one-step farther and, using what she had read in the book on Blood Magic, she had included a drop of her blood on the tip of her wand when casting the charm on her robes. She had suggested the others try that as well.

Hermione had been hesitant, "But using blood, that's Dark Magic!" That had provoked a long discussion between them on how to define Dark Magic. Simply including blood couldn't be it because most House protection Wards used blood from the owners. And they certainly were not hurting anyone else when they used their own blood, nor could it be considered Dark Magic if the purpose was for their protection! They decided Blood Magic was only Dark if the blood was taken by force instead of being offered freely, and if the intent was to harm someone else.

They decided to do a test. Harri's robe, charmed with a drop of blood, and Hermione's robe charmed without. Then they had the boys target them with harmless stinging spells. The first two hexes had bounced off the spelled robes and hit both the casters, to their surprise. The third time the boys tried they immediately moved to the side a couple of steps. The hexes had barely missed them. That was probably a good habit to get into, cast a spell and immediately move so it couldn't be sent back at you. Nor would you be where your opponent expected you to be when they sent a spell at you after blocking or dodging yours.

Hermione's charm failed the fourth time. Harri's charm successfully reflected thirteen hexes before starting to fail. The fourteenth hex had been almost a mild finger poke, the fifteenth had hurt. They all charmed their robes with a drop of blood.

The next time Draco, or any other Slytherin, tried something he, or she, was in for a very unpleasant surprise.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

_The Daily Prophet_ headlined a new story on Friday:

.

**Dumbledore Stole Owl Mail!**

"It was for his own good," Dumbledore claims

_The Ministry For Magic announced today that famed Albus Dumbledore, (Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry — see Albus Dumbledore article inside) has been accused of stealing Harry Potter's Owl Mail for the last decade._

_Gringotts recently discovered that financial information sent to the Harry Potter last year, as per his solicitor's request, had never arrived. The Boy-Who-Lived had queried his solicitor about not receiving the expected statements. Farther investigation revealed that **none** of their correspondence had **ever** reached Harry Potter, or his Magical Guardian. (see article inside: Gringotts Furious at Interference in Business Mail)_

_Gringotts brought this to the Ministry's attention who discovered, in December of last year, that no Owl Mail addressed to Harry Potter had **ever** been delivered to him — instead it had been redirected to an unknown third party. Only just last week was that unknown party identified: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. This reporter wonders how someone unrelated to the Boy-Who-Lived, and **not** his Magical Guardian, could gain such access to another's Owl Mail (see article inside: Is your Owl Mail Safe?), even if he is the acclaimed leader of the Forces of Light._

_Chief Warlock Dumbledore denies stealing the Owl Mail, saying "I'm sure that whomever did this did it to protect the boy. Consider the times. It would have been prudent and necessary to redirect the boy's mail to a safe location to prevent (You-Know-Who)'s followers from finding and harming the boy, both by sending cursed mail and by tracking the owls to his hidden location. Look at what happened to the Longbottom's after (You-Know-Who) vanished. (see Longbottom article inside)"_

_Harry Potter's solicitor, Andromeda Tonks, response was, "While it might be true that the Owl Mail had to be screened for the boy's safety, why was the cleared mail never delivered? Harry Potter told me he **never** received any mail at his home until his Hogwarts letter arrived this summer. And he has lived at the same address from November 2nd, 1981 until August 1st, 1991 when he boarded the Hogwarts Express."_

_She continued with, "What happened to that mail? Many wizards and witches, and even many children, sent cards, small presents, and money to Harry Potter. My own niece sent small gifts of four or five knuts at Christmas to thank him for getting rid of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as she believes she would have been killed if He had not been killed by Mr. Potter. Where did the money go? Where did the presents go? Were the cards and presents simply discarded in the trash or tossed in a dungeon to molder? I'm afraid that whomever is responsible for this terrible crime has much to answer."_

_This reporter can only agree. Perhaps that sad individual who betrayed not only a child's trust, Harry Potter's, but the entire population of Wizarding Great Britain, will be forced to make amends. A written apology to everyone who ever sent an undelivered letter would be a small start. A few years in Azkaban is not too severe a penalty, in this reporter's mind._

.

Never had the Headmaster been subject to such accusatory stares in Hogwarts. Even the other Professors were giving him suspicious and disappointed looks. _The Daily Prophet_ continued with daily updates, including one that said Owl Mail addressed to Harry Potter had started arriving at his solicitor's address. Mrs. Tonks had refused comment other than to say that they were screening the mail, and acknowledgements sent out. They would donate to charity and St. Mungos, as appropriate, any toys or gifts inappropriate for a child Harry's age or gender.

The whereabouts of mail sent before that date was still unknown.

Separately, Andromeda had sent a letter to Harri indicating that the Potter House elves were screening the mail and writing acknowledgements, using the magically copied signature from one of her contracts. Tonks and Tonks gave to the Ministry any letters and packages detected with Dark or harmful spells so they could track them back to the senders for legal action.

Why grown witches, and even a few wizards, would want to send a love charm to an eleven-year-old boy puzzled Harri's solicitor. The little Firstie sadly shook her head at reading that, she unfortunately knew all too well the answer to that question.

And, what the heck was a Potter House Elf?

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!" stormed Professor McGonagall, "What were you thinking? How could you just take the mail and _never_ deliver it?"

Dumbledore, no twinkle in his eye this time, opened his mouth to reply. A few of the more delicate trinkets on his bookshelves started to vibrate.

"Did you think _no one_ would _ever_ notice? Did you even look at any of it? Or did you just vanish everything so you didn't have to do anything with it? Merlin only _knows_ what was in that mail!" She paused for a deep breath. "There could have been _important_ inheritance paperwork! The _WILL_ could have been in that mail!"

Dumbledore, started to say "Well. . . ." Some of the larger items in his office started to vibrate as the small ones shook violently.

"Yes it needed to be screened, but after that why couldn't it be delivered? At least the stuff that _was_ appropriate. And if none of it was appropriate, give it to _charity_ in his name!"

Dumbledore, tried to reply. His books were vibrating, some fell to the floor behind the irate witch.

"And don't say it would take _too much time_! Just hand the stuff to Gringotts and let _them_ handle it as a service to their client! They could have charged it to the Family Vault accounts, Merlin knows, the Potters were rich enough to afford it!"

Dumbledore, again tried to reply. The shelves were vibrating and more items were cascading to the hard floor of his office, those not held in place by sticking charms, that is.

"And don't you dare try to deny doing it, no one else could have done it! All you had to do was visit a few former students and ask for a favor or two, nothing big, really. And bang, of course they would be happy to help the great Albus Dumbledore. They would fall all over themselves to help their former Headmaster with such a minor task."

Dumbledore, opened his mouth to reply. The closer portraits were empty, their inhabitants having moved to safer locations as the frames began to swing wildly.

"Between this fiasco and the hell you put Harri through with the Dursleys, 'all for the greater good,' I'm beginning to have serious doubts about you. Are you _trying_ to drive the girl towards the Dark? What else have you done that's going to blow up in our faces? Mark my words, Albus, if you don't stop keeping everything secret from us things are only going to get worse. You might find that you are a worse enemy to Harri than _You-Know-Who_! Merlin! Never thought I would say _that_ to _anyone_!" There were several sharps _cracks_ as glassware around the office shattered, and frames crashed to the floor.

The irate Scottish Witch turned and stalked out the door in a towering rage, her magic crackling around her. Students in the halls scrambled to get out of her way and stared after her, wondering what could have brought the normally steady witch to such a temper.

A bemused Headmaster sat staring at his closed door, wondering how he was going to salvage his reputation and regain the trust of his friends and colleagues. He sighed and began restoring his office to its normal eccentric and pristine condition.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

_The Daily Prophet_ worried the Dumbledore Owl Mail story like a dog with a steak bone all through the next week. Then, another headline rocked Wizarding Great Britain:

.

**Dumbledore No Longer Chief Warlock!**

Albus Dumbledore resigns position to devote more time to Hogwarts.

_In a stunning move, Albus Dumbledore, (Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry — see Albus Dumbledore article inside) has resigned his position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. In a statement to our reporter yesterday, he said, "The workload of my responsibilities as Chief Warlock in combination with my other duties has necessitated my withdrawal from that august position. It is with great pride that I look back on my achievements in that position over the last ten years. However, it is time for another to take up that responsibility."(see Chief Warlock article inside.)_

_This reporter wonders how much getting caught red-handed stealing Owl Mail from our hero, the Boy Who Lived, contributed to this sudden decision, coming as it does after a Private Session of the Wizengamot just yesterday, which other participants have indicated was called to delve into the Owl Mail Fraud case and what the Aurors have discovered. If so, then it was most likely a choice of resigning or being fired that led to the decision. In any case, it was a light penalty for such a severe transgression of the Wizarding public's trust._

_When questioned whether this was due, in part, to the accusations of Owl Mail fraud, the venerable wizard responded in the negative. He did say, however, that he was pleased to announce that the Aurors had discovered the missing mail in a Gringott's Vault, hinting that maybe the Goblins had had a hand in the mail going astray._

_A Gringotts representative hotly denied that accusation when it was relayed by this reporter shortly before she was ejected from the bank by the uncouth creatures. The Goblin stated that Gringotts always complies with all Ministry laws in regards to their clients as he escorted this reporter to the doors. Farther details on the situation in Gringotts are unavailable, although this reporter learned that the Goblins will be pursuing libel allegations against unnamed parties in the near future. (See Gringotts article inside)_

_When asked what he intended to do with the extra time he now has, Grand Sorcerer Dumbledore said he would devote his energies to running Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, of which he is the Headmaster (see Hogwarts article inside). "I cannot envision a position more important to our future than the proper care and teaching of our children," he added._

_Tonks and Tonks, solicitors for Harry Potter, indicated that the newly discovered vault mail will be examined beginning with the oldest mail first and that it would likely take months, if not at least a year, to process the accumulated mail. (See Tonks and Tonks article inside)_

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri had been looking forward to the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff match, which the Gryffindor's easily won. She was happy to be making a name for herself, for _her_ _accomplishments,_ and not for the fact that she was female and available if someone pleased a certain Grunnings Drills Director. Kids her age, and quite a few older ones, were bragging that they knew her, and they were writing home to tell their parents about the great Seeker, the youngest in a century, that their team had.

She had then spent the late afternoon broom flying with the older students. She planned to spend the evening after dinner celebrating in the House Common Room. It was while she was returning her broom to storage that she saw Professor Snape heading into the Forbidden Forest. Her first thought was that he was going to gather plants that were best picked in the winter days' fading light, except she noticed he had no basket or anything else to carry what he picked. Intrigued, she decided to follow at a discrete distance. Riding her broom made movement completely silent, with no worries about stepping on a twig or tripping, falling, and being discovered.

Discovering that the professor was meeting up with the DADA professor left her confused as the two conferred and then split up to return to the castle. She now knew that both Professors Snape and Quirrell were after the Philosopher's Stone. Or maybe, one was after it and the other was trying to get out of being involved. Or that one was trying to warn the other off. But which of those was it? She knew she couldn't ask the potions professor, he would simply tell her to mind her own business. And the DADA professor? She didn't like him on general principles and he gave her headaches.

She put it aside to worry later, tonight she intended to celebrate with her _friends_.

Sunday found the quartet back in the Clubroom. Hermione was busy at her desk drawing up some kind of chart and color coding it. Ron was zipping around the room, which was the size of Harri's muggle-school gymnasium, on a broom pretending he was a Chaser. Occasionally he would look back at the girls and bump into a cushioned wall. Neville was reading a book on plants, but much slower than usual. Harri wandered around the room, distracted. Finally, she called the others together and told them what she had overheard, and her confusing conclusion.

"I know Professor Snape isn't after that thing, but why was he talking like that to Professor Quirrell? I mean, if he _was_ after the Stone, why would he want someone as incompetent as Professor Quirrell to help him? And if he was trying to warn off the Professor, what makes Quirrell think he can get by Fluffy? I just don't get it."

"There has to be more than just that Cerberus protecting the Stone," said Hermione, "We need more information."

After the fiasco with Harri's Owl Mail and their experience with the Headmaster's "everything is fine" attitude, they knew he would ignore anything they said to him regarding the Stone. He would just pat them on the head, figuratively speaking, and tell them to go back to playing and studying. Professors Snape and Quirrell were right out. The other professors wouldn't be helpful, either. They would tell the quartet that this was an adult matter and take any of the concerns back to the Headmaster, and he would say "everything's fine." And they'd be back right where they were now.

Thus, the four found themselves sitting at Hagrid's table, sipping tea, and ignoring his plate of rock cakes (which, they had determined previously, really were made with rocks — he was a half-giant, after all).

"Hagrid," Harri started, "What's guarding the Philosopher's Stone? Besides Fluffy, that is. I mean a simple _alohomora_ gets the door open, and God forbid, if someone were to get past Fluffy, what would keep them from getting the Stone?" She looked up at the half-giant with what Minie had called puppy-dog eyes.

"Hurumph. Don't yer never min' about thet thar Stone. Dumbledore and the professors 'ave it well in 'and, and no wizard'll get past Fluffy, ifn thay don't know ther trick." said Hagrid. "'Sides, I don' know. 'Nd you know far too much fer yer own good anyway. 'Re ya sure you won't 'ave another rock cake?"

Harri resorted to a tactic her Mum taught her. "We don't mean anything by it, we're just curious, you know, to know who else Dumbledore trusts as much as you to guard the Stone. After all, _your_ Fluffy is the very first obstacle. And a clever one it is, it would take a powerful Wizard to get past Fluffy!"

Flattered, the big Wizard straightened his vest, and preened a bit. It wasn't often students called him clever.

"Er, well, let's see. I don' s'pose it could hurt to tell yer. . . . Well, 'sides me Dumbledore had Professor Sprout. . . Professor Flitwick. . . Professor McGonagall. . ." he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten some'un. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

Harri looked over at Hermione. So, if Professors Snape and Quirrell were working together, that knocked two of the protections off. If either Professor knew how to control Fluffy, that meant only three were left. And Professor Snape was more than skilled enough to determine the traps set by the other professors. Whether Professor Quirrell could do the same was unknown, but with his stutter and other mannerisms, who knew if he might be able to trick the other professors into revealing things they should not?

Neville, meanwhile, had been staring the fireplace. It seemed inordinately hot, much more so than was needed. The room was almost tropical in its heat. The quartet had already shed their coats and robes, and the stout boy was worried Harri was about to start taking off the rest of her clothes.

He had walked into the Clubroom a couple of times to find Harri clad only in her small knickers and reading a book or working on an assignment while Ron sat at his desk staring at her like a moonstruck calf. Minie, on the other hand, had gone ballistic when she walked in and had seen Harri like that for the first time. Neville's desperate denials had had no consequence for the bushy-haired girl. Neville and Ron were boys and were taking advantage of Harri's sweet disposition and ignorance of normal behavior to instill bad habits just to satisfy the boys' base desires! Why boys were so interested in seeing girls naked mystified both girls, but Hermione wasn't about to let that prevent her from ripping a new one for both boys!

Complicating matters was that throughout Hermione's diatribe Harri had tried to convince Minie to strip to her knickers, too. Finally ending the argument had been Harri's totally unfair, "Aren't we your friends, Minie? Don't you trust us? Or is there something wrong with my body and I should hide it?" The compromise the two girls worked out, to the consternation of the boys, was that Harri put on her skirt and Minie took off her blouse but kept on her bra. Neither girl was happy with the compromise.

The girls noticed that both Neville and Ron, for some reason, found it inordinately difficult to work on their assignments and read their textbooks. Harri noticed that Minie's face was very red for the rest of the evening. And she kept her attention strictly on her essays, never looking up once.

That became the standard dress for the girls when in the Clubroom. The girls would come in and hang their robes on the robe tree by the door, then hang their blouses there as well. How Harri convinced Minie to do that, Nev and Ron were unsure. True, they had been there during the argument, but still, how had Harri managed to talk conservative Minie into taking off her blouse? In any case, they weren't about to object!

At first, Minie had been red-faced and hunched over each time she came in the room. But then, after getting caught up in her "lecture mode" a few times and pacing up and down the room gesticulating as she explained some point, she lost that shyness. Neville and Ron had noticed that even when she was already in the room when the other three arrived, she had already doffed her blouse and was reading or writing.

Neville didn't dare tell Harri not to do the same here because if the thought hadn't occurred to her she would take it as a suggestion and strip. "Hagrid?" he said. "Why's the fire so hot?"

Harri noticed Neville's distraction, and followed his gaze. The other two soon followed. Harri could just see a lump in the fireplace that wasn't wood. It looked almost shiny and glass-like in the flames.

"Is that an egg?" asked Hermione. "It's rather large for an egg. I don't think I've read of an egg that large. Even the ostrich eggs aren't that large. What creature would lay such a large egg?" She stared at it, thinking.

"It's nothin' to worry 'bout. Would yer like some more tea?" Hagrid said hurriedly. "'Haps 'nother rock cake?"

Hermione was looking around the large room and settled briefly on a book lying on Hagrid's bed. She tilted her head slightly to see the binding better. "Hagrid, is that a book on dragons?"

The four looked at Hagrid's stricken expression, turned to look at the fireplace, then turned back to Hagrid. "Cor! It _is_ a dragon egg," exclaimed Ron. Harri and the boys bent to look closer at the egg while Hermione looked around Hagrid's home.

"Do you know what kind it is?" asked Ron.

"When did you get it?" asked Neville.

"Who did you get it from?" asked Harri.

"Did it cost a lot?" asked Ron.

"Hagrid! You live in a _wooden house_! What are you _thinking_?" shouted Hermione.

"Er, well, yer see," Hagrid stuttered, "There's a funny story b'hind that."

They stared at him expectantly. "Well, er, I was 'aving a few pints at the Hogs Head in the village and got inter a game o' cards with a bloke. Think he was glad ter be rid of it, honestly." Hagrid smiled, pleased, "'e wanted ter know if I could take care 'o a dragon, and I told 'im I was Groundskeeper at Hogwarts and took care 'o lots a creatures, like hippogriffs, cerebrum, and so. Right impressed he was. Especially when I tol' 'im I raised Fluffy from a pup."

"Hagrid! You didn't tell him about Fluffly liking music?" asked Harri.

"'Course not!" Hagrid looked offended. "I told 'im I couldna' say no more and talked about the hippogriffs instead."

The quartet sat back in relief.

"But Hagrid," piped up Hermione, "What'll you do when it _hatches_? Raising dragons is _illegal_ in Britain!"

"Don't yer be worrin' 'bout that. I'll take care 'o 'im."

"Hagrid! You live in a _wooden house_! What are you _thinking_?" shouted Hermione, again.

Hagrid didn't seem to hear her, he just stared into the fire, grinning blissfully.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Norbert, as Hagrid insisted on naming the Norwegian Ridgeback, brought new problems to the four students. Someone had found out about Norbert and the group was on tenterhooks waiting for Hagrid's arrest for having an illegal dragon. It wasn't until the little monster bit Ron that they discovered Draco was the spy. He had visited Ron in the hospital wing solely to taunt him. They couldn't figure out why the git didn't just turn Hagrid, and them, over to the Headmaster. Fortunately, Charlie, Ron's dragon-handler brother made arrangements to take Norbert off their hands. They almost managed to get away with it, but Filch caught Harri and Hermione. They had just been about to join Ron and Neville under the invisibility cloak when Filch came up the stairs.

The point loss put Harri and Hermione at the top of the Gryffindor "most disliked list," even though the two of them were responsible for most of the points earned over the year. It was Harri's first experience with the fickle faith of the wizarding public.

It also reinforced her desires to keep her previous life secret from all. Her House was supposed to support her when she needed help. If this was the way they acted when she merely lost them points in a stupid race, how would they react when they heard about her being a whore who had bedded more men than there were boys in Hogwarts? She shuddered at the thought. The fact that Minie, Nev, and Ron's support never wavered one bit made them all that more precious to her.

But Norbert and Draco had led the two to their present predicament, meeting Draco with Hagrid almost a month later for a stint in the Forbidden Forest. Fortunately, by then the snow had melted and spring was coming. It was cold, but not freezing that night.

Harri loved the half-giant, but still, taking three eleven-year-old children at night into the forest after a creature that _killed_ unicorns? Was there anyone in the Wizarding world who wasn't as mad as a hatter? Hermione's teeth were chattering, and not from cold, and Draco looked ready to pee his pants at the slightest noise. Harri just abandoned the field to her Mum's Confidence. Let her deal with it.

The Centaurs were amazing, and completely confusing. 'Mars is bright tonight' indeed! Truly daft, they all were, even, or especially, the magical creatures. Harri remembered from her muggle school lessons that Mars was the God of War, or Conflict, but what did that have to do with something killing unicorns?

Somehow, Harri and Draco ended up together following a trail of silvery drops to a clearing. There, on the ground was a dead unicorn. There was a soft sound and. . . something crawled over to the unicorn, lowered its head, and started drinking.

Draco screamed like a little girl and bolted, quickly passed by Fang as the dog tore off into the forest like his tail was on fire. The creature looked up, but Harri couldn't see its face.

It charged towards Harri. Harri's wand was out. She was casting anything that came to mind. The pain in her head was tremendous, but Confidence let Consequences deal with that. Confidence focused on the thing coming at her. The creature swerved and dodged. An arrow flew over Harri. It barely missed the creature. The thing stopped and reversed direction. Something huge flew over Harri. The creature swiftly fled to the bushes. A centaur landed between Harri and the creature! The thing swiftly escaped into the forest and out of sight.

Firenze, after a confrontation with the other two centaurs Harri had met earlier that evening, carried Harri back to Hagrid, imparting some interesting, and confusing information. Mars again! Or was Mars their code word for danger?

Ron and Neville were waiting when Harri and Hermione returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. Well, Neville was waiting, Ron was asleep on the couch in front of the fire. It took only a short time to fill in the two boys and Minie. Four cups of hot chocolate appeared on the table beside them while she talked.

"So, you see," concluded Harri's Consequences, "It's Voldemort that's hiding in the Forbidden Forrest, and Professor Quirrell must be the one planning to steal the Philosopher's Stone."

"Don't say that name," said Ron

"Are you sure it's not Professor Snape? I mean, if anyone were to be able to do it, I would expect Snape to be at the top of the list," said Neville.

"Nope, definitely not Professor Snape," stated Harri.

"But of the two, Snape is definitely the more capable one, the more believable one," put in Hermione.

"Nope," repeated Harri. "Absolutely not Professor Snape."

Neville and Minie stared at Harri while Ron looked back and forth between them.

"Why?" asked Hermione, crossing her arms and staring at Harri defiantly. Neville and Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, why not Professor Snape?"

"Because Professor Quirrell makes my head hurt."

Ron shrugged, "Harri, he gives us all a headache with that garlic."

How could she explain without revealing who she was? "Because Professor Snape has helped me. A lot."

Hermione looked at Harri, "He's helped us all this semester, I've actually learned stuff in his detentions. What difference does that make? I've known plenty of adults who act nice but are really scum. Look at your relatives. They hurt you but fooled others into thinking they were nice."

Harri rubbed her forehead. Dammit. She did _not_ want to tell them her real reasons, not here, not now. She looked around the Common Room. It was almost midnight and everyone else was in bed.

She couldn't lie. "Okay," she said, "just a minute." She pulled out her wand and cast a _muffliato_ spell around them, then moved so that her back was to the rest of the Common Room while still facing her friends. If someone woke up and came down, they would only see her from the back.

"I. . . have a secret to tell. Please don't be mad. Only a very few people know my secret. The Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, Professor _Snape_, and Hagrid are the only people in Hogwarts who know the truth." She stopped and chewed her lower lip as she watched them. They would probably leave her in disgust when they discovered the secret she had kept from them all this time, and that she had lied to them almost the whole year. How could they stand to stay with liar like her?

They looked at each other, then back to her, waiting.

She took a deep breath and said, "I'm really Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived." She stared at them through her fringe. What would they think?

There was silence, and then Ron burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. The other two, looked at him, grinned, and started laughing, too.

Harri sighed and waited.

"You are _not_ The Boy Who Lived, Harri," said Ron when he got his breath back, wiping the tears from his eyes. "You are a girl! I know you're a girl. We've all seen you in your knickers, and if you were a boy, it would have been blindingly obvious! And my mum told me Harry was a boy, she even changed his diapers once, so she should know!"

The little girl held up her wand and said, "I swear on my magic that I am the one known as The Boy Who Lived, despite my appearance, and that my parents were James and Lilly Potter who were killed by Voldemort on Halloween night in 1981."

Her three friends stared, totally stunned, as the Wizard Oath caused her wand, and her, to glow, proving that what she said was the completely true. Ron sat straight down on the floor. All three stared at her, mouths open in astonishment.

"But. . . how?" whispered Hermione.

"I was born a boy, but the Headmaster felt it would be safer for me to appear as a girl, to throw off Voldemort's followers. They would be looking for a new little boy toddler in a family, not a girl. I couldn't merely _look_ like a girl, I had to _be_ a girl, or there might have been a way to find me. The spell was supposed to wear off when I was seven, but my. . . Uncle. . . ," she paused for a breath. "He did. . . stuff that made my magic continue the spell when it should have worn off. So, now I'm a girl, and will be a girl forever. It can't be reversed. At least, that's what the Sorting Hat and Professor McGonagall told me."

"And here's the final proof." Harri held out her hand as the Potter House ring appeared. They were now all sitting on the floor, Harri still with her back to the Common Room. No one but her three friends could see what she was doing. "If I weren't Harry Potter, this ring would have killed me when I put it on."

"May I," asked Neville, raising his eyebrows and leaning forward.

Harri nodded, stretching her arm out to let him examine the ring. He lifted his left hand under hers, supporting it, and taking a close look. She saw the lions on the ring shift to glance at him, and she felt a warm glow on her finger. Her ring, somehow she knew, recognized Neville and accepted him.

Ron, likewise, took a long look. The two looked at each other for a few moments. "It's real, looks exactly like my dad's does at home," said Ron.

"My ring recognizes it as the House Potter ring," Neville said softly to the others. "Is it Lord Potter or Lady Potter?" Neville asked Harri quietly turning back to face her.

Her lips twitched. "It's Lord Potter. I know, I know. It should be Lady Potter, but according to the Goblins it has something to do with my 'magical core' being male despite my outward appearance."

They sat there thinking about the situation.

"Those trunks and quills the stores are selling?" asked Neville, "Are those yours?"

"Yes." She searched in one of her pockets and fished out a ribbon. With practiced ease, she gathered her hair and tied it into a ponytail. She tapped her glasses with her wand, making them visible, then used her left hand to lift her fringe. She gave them a lopsided grin while holding up her wand in her right hand.

"Blimey," breathed Ron, "That's exactly like the photographs!" He studied her face. "Does it hurt? The scar I mean."

"Only when I'm around Professor Quirrell."

"Glasses?" said Minie.

"Practically blind as a bat without them," said Harris as she rapidly reversed her transformation.

Hermione blinked rapidly for several seconds, then stared off over Harri's head. She was thinking, very hard. Neville was looking at either the floor or his lap. Ron just stared at her hidden scar, as if he could still see it. Nobody said anything.

Harri had her fingers crossed. They hadn't started screaming at her yet, denouncing her as a liar. The silence made her nervous. Her friends were obviously deciding if they wanted to remain friends with such a proven liar, someone who kept big secrets, and was a whore. Just look at all the trouble into which she had gotten them.

Finally, Neville stood and adopted a very formal stance and took out his wand. He bowed to Harri, "Lord Potter, House Longbottom has been allied with House Potter for over three centuries. As the Heir of House Longbottom and acting for the currently incapacitated Head of House Longbottom I offer to pledge now to continue that alliance without reservation. What say you?" He held out his wand-tip to her.

"Sure Neville, you're my friend."

"No Harri," Ron interrupted, "This is important Old Traditions stuff. You have to formally accept."

Neville was still standing, staring at her.

"Um, what do I say?" asked Harri.

Ron took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The proper response is 'The Lord of House Potter accepts the Heir of House Longbottom's pledge of alliance and reciprocates in all particulars.'"

Harri stood, figuring this was important, and bowed back to Neville. Then she repeated what Ron had said.

"Now touch his wand-tip to yours," Ron instructed.

There was a brief glow over both wands that spread to her ring on her left hand while a similar glow extended down to a ring she had never noticed on Neville's left hand.

Ron stood beside Neville and said, "Harri, I'm not a Lord or an Heir to the Weasley House. I'm the sixth son of the family and rank at the bottom," he made a face of disgust. "However I can say that I offer to personally ally myself with the House Potter and that I will support House Potter to the best of my ability. Should you need anything I can supply, just ask. What say you?" He held out his wand.

Taking her cue from the previous oath, Harri responded, "The Lord of House Potter accepts the personal pledge of alliance of Ron Weasley, of House Weasley, and reciprocates in all particulars." This time when she touched the offered wand, the glow extended to her ring and to his heart.

Hermione had come out of her trance and quickly stood as well. "Harri, I have no House, but I also offer to personally ally myself with House Potter, that I will support House Potter to the best of my ability, and should you need anything I can supply, just ask. What say you?" She turned to Ron and whispered, "Did I say that right?"

Ron leaned close and whispered some things back to her. She blushed, then said, "Um, sorry Harri, what I meant to say was," she took a steadying breath, "Harri, I am Heiress to House Granger, and I offer to pledge the support of my House to House Potter until and unless it is abrogated" she looked back at Ron, who nodded, "by the Lord of House Granger."

Ron leaned over again and whispered some more.

"Should the Lord of House Granger," Hermione continued, "abrogate this pledge, then my personal pledge to support House Potter to the best of my ability will take its place, and should you need anything I can supply, just ask. What say you?"

Bemused at the turn of events, Harri said, "The Lord of House Potter accepts the Heiress of House Granger's pledge of alliance, or, if the Lord of House Granger," she stopped and looked at Ron, "abrogates this pledge," Ron nodded again, "then I accept the personal alliance of Hermione Granger, of House Granger, and in either case, reciprocate in all particulars." As with Ron's pledge, when Harri touched Minie's wand the glow extended to Harri's ring and Minie's heart.

They stared at each other for a few moments. "Well," said Harri, "What's all that mean?"

Ron and Neville grinned, "It means. . . ," Neville started.

". . . that we have your back no matter what happens," Ron finished, interrupting Neville.

"And vice versa," added Neville.

Harri promised herself that she would research this 'alliance' stuff. She gave them an uncertain smile.

"Anyway," said Hermione, "getting back to what started all this," she paused. "Professor Snape can't be the one going for the Stone because if he did he wouldn't have helped you at all this year because he knows you are really Harry Potter and Voldemort's enemy. If Professor Snape wanted Voldemort to return. . . ."

"Stop saying that name!" demanded Ron. Harri and Minie stared at the boy.

"If He is really trying to come back, then he'll want to get back at Harri, and Professor Snape, by helping Harri is actually hurting Voldemort."

Ron gritted his teeth, "Stop saying that name."

"Professor Snape would have been better to not do anything to help Harri, otherwise his," at this point Hermione looked at Ron, "boss might accuse him of helping his enemy."

"Right," said Harri. "It makes no sense for him to help me, because he knows I'm really Harry Potter, Voldemort's worst enemy."

"STOP SAYING HIS NAME!" yelled Ron.

Harri turned to Ron, "What, you want I should call him Vol-au-vent instead?"

"NO! But there are spells he can cast that tell him every time someone says his name!"

They stared at Ron. "What?" asked Harri blankly.

"Look, my dad told me that there are some Dark spells that you can cast, if you're powerful enough, that turn your name into a Taboo. After you cast these spells if anyone says your name you know where they are and can apparate right to them, no matter how well hidden they may be. THAT'S why the pure- and half-bloods refuse to say his name! No one knows for sure that he _hasn't_ cast those spells." Ron was breathing heavily. "So, when you say his _name_ you are _asking_ him to come after you! Only someone as powerful, or more powerful, than You-Know-Who can say his name because they aren't worried he will apparate right in front of them and _kill_ them! And I don't know about you but I am no match for that bastard!"

They stared at him a bit longer.

"Right," said Harri. "Okay." She thought a moment, mentally digesting what Ron had said. "Well, I always find it confusing when someone says You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." She stopped. "I looked up his name in a French to English book and one of the phrases I figured out was 'stealing from the dead.' Why don't we call him Old Grave-robber?"

Ron and Neville stared at her with eyes wide open. "Grave-robber?" whispered Ron. Nev started to smile. "Yeah, I could go with that."

With that finally sorted out, they started on the Big Problem: keeping Old Grave-robber from getting the Philosopher's Stone.

"Well, we know the Professors and the Headmaster are going to ignore us," started Hermione. "And there's no way any of us can stand up to an adult wizard with decades of experience in dueling."

They could all agree with that. They were just learning minor hexes. It would be years of hard work before they could begin to hope to match an adult wizard.

"We could try to get to the Stone ourselves, but I doubt any of us could disarm or evade the traps set by our Professors."

"Why not?" asked Harri. "I mean, we already know how to get past Fluffy. Why not see how far we can get? Wouldn't it be a hoot to steal the Stone before Grave-robber gets it? He'd go through all the trouble to sneak past all the traps, and for nothing!" That thought made them all smile.

They decided they would make their first attempt later that day, Saturday. In the meantime, they could barely stay awake so they headed off to their beds.


	12. All's Fair in

_Note: 9/18/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**12\. All's Fair in. . .**

That morning at breakfast, the four friends decided they needed to do their planning in the Clubroom to prevent anyone from eavesdropping.

"Well, first we need something to play music." Hermione turned to Harri as she said this. "While you're okay, I don't think you want to remain behind serenading Fluffy while we go on, and neither Nev nor I carry a piano in our pockets. Ron can't carry a tune to save his life."

"Oi!" complained Ron.

"Also, we'll need a spell to lock the door behind us so that we aren't disturbed, _colloportus_ just won't do, it'll open at the first _alohomora_." She glanced at them meaningfully, "We wouldn't want Grave-robber to walk in and discover we've already cleared the first couple of obstacles for him, now do we?"

In short order, courtesy of the Clubroom's bookcase and a few carefully worded requests, they had searched for and found the two spells they needed. Harri's Confidence was eager to go. First, however, they had to spend almost four hours over two days practicing the spells to get them to work right. While Minie was going to be the one using them, they all needed to be able to do them just in case something went wrong.

Minie's whispered "_Alohomora_" got them in the room with Fluffy. Fluffy was just getting to his feet when Minie cast "_Musica delenit bestiam feram_" at him. Instantly they could hear music playing. "Mozart?" asked Neville, raising his eyebrows at Minie. "Seems to be," she replied, frowning. "I wasn't thinking of anything in particular." She turned to the door behind them and took a small bottle out of a pocket. She inserted the tip of her wand into the small bit of blood at the bottom and then inserted the tip of her wand into lock. "_Silex ferro_," she said, turning the lock into a single piece of iron. The addition of her blood meant a simple _finite incantatem_ would fail to return the solid lock to anything useful.

They walked over to the trap door, which Fluffy had managed not to fall asleep on top of, and lifted the heavy object. It took both boys to do it.

They stared into the darkness. By previous agreement, Harri took the first step into the darkness as Hermione gently lowered her with _wingardium leviosa_. Harri had her wand lit with _lumos_ and was looking down.

This obstacle was clearly the brainchild of Professor Sprout. "It looks like some kind of plant. Neville, you should take a look at it," Harri called up.

A moment later, Ron was lowering Neville. He had become quite good at that spell after the troll incident.

"It's Devil's Snare. We need a bright light or a fire to get through it. Where's the door?"

"Over there," Harri used her wand as a flashlight to point to it.

"We should have brought our brooms."

Harri could hear the chagrin in Neville's voice.

"Hey, Minie!" Harri called up again. "Can you do that blue fire ball thing you showed us last semester?"

"Of course!" came the quick answer.

"Good, let me down the rest of the way, then drop one of those into the Devil's Snare and I'll make my way to the door. Then we'll do that for Nev and Ron."

The only scary part was when Hermione had to jump and trust them to catch her. But they needn't have worried, with the three of them working together it was easy.

The door opened to a passageway. They followed it to another door that opened to a room with flying keys. They ran quickly over to the other door, to find it locked and _alohomora_ didn't work. _Accio_ failed to fetch the required key. Then they noticed the two brooms beside the door. Harri realized they had to catch a key, and it would take the quickness of a Quidditch Seeker to do it. This charm was Professor Flickwick's challenge.

Fortunately, the key they wanted was an old-fashioned ornate silver one. A dozen of the flying keys matched that description and they had to try six before they found the one that opened the door. Actually, Harri caught six of them while the one that was the correct key blundered into Ron trying to escape the Seeker. Hermione kept the ones that Harri and Ron brought to her until they found the one that opened the door. Harri made sure to shove that key deep into one of her pockets while Minie released the others.

Again, the door opened to a passage that ended in a door. That door opened to chamber with a giant chess set. Trying to sneak around or distract the pieces failed to work. Ron determined that the only way through was to play a full game.

Harri walked up to the Black King and Queen and bowed deeply, "Honorable King, Honorable Queen, we wish to examine the door on the other side. We will not leave this chamber through that door, but will return the way we came when we finish. May we examine that door? If you desire, I will swear on my magic that this is so."

For a long moment, the faceless Black King and Queen appeared to be looking at her. Then the two chess pieces turned to look at each other, although how they did that without faces Harri wasn't sure. After another long moment, the King turned back to Harri and nodded, but held up one finger on his hand.

Harri bowed a second time, and turned to her friends. "Okay, they'll let one of us go look at that door. Minie, I think you should go. You're the most observant." Hermione was at once flattered that they thought her best suited for the task and yet scared to be alone crossing the chamber.

The three stood behind the knight as the bushy-haired girl walked to the King, curtsied, then continued on across the huge playing board. She curtsied to the White King and Queen, who nodded back to her, and then hurried to the door. She spent several long minutes running her hands over the door and wall, getting down on her knees and crawling at the door's base, and peering at the doorframe and hinges. She stood to the side of the door with her back to the wall and shoved the door with her hand, opening it. Keeping her body against the wall she leaned her head into the passage and stared for a long time. She didn't want to give the idea that she was going to go through the open door by standing in front of it. Satisfied with her results, she hurried back across the room.

"It looks and feels like a normal door, there's no lock or anything on it, there's just a metal plate to push on to go through. If it's like the others, then there's a short passage to reach the next chamber and its door. Everything felt and looked the way it should, no traps or spells I could detect. The only clue I could pick up to the next chamber is that when the door was open I smelled something awful." She thought a moment. "It's something I've smelled before, but where? It's. . . where was I?" She frowned and stared at the floor. The others waited patiently. Suddenly, she gave a startled twitch. "Troll. I'd bet anything that the next room has a troll."

"Guys," said Harri, "This is bad. We've been here about an hour and we've beaten Hagrid's, Professor Sprout's, and Professor Flitwicks' obstacles. That's half of them. These chess-pieces are clearly Professor McGonagall's work. If Grave-robber or his wizard are any decent at chess, they'll be through this chamber in short order. That leaves only Professors' Snape and Quirrell and the Headmaster as the obstacles left. I can't imagine Snape or the Headmaster using a _troll_, so that must be Professor Quirrell's obstacle. I can't imagine that a troll would take much time for Grave-robber to handle. That means there are only two obstacles left and if they're like the rest they won't slow down Grave-robber more than a few minutes."

They looked at each other. "Wait," said Ron. "If Professor Quirrell's obstacle is a troll," he said suspiciously, "then what the bloody hell was that whole troll thing at Halloween about? I mean, if he can control trolls, why the hell was he running around like a wanking poof?"

"Language, Ron," Minie said reflexively.

That meant that Professor Quirrell was probably the wizard helping Voldemort, Harri realized.

"And why didn't the Headmaster put one and one together to get two if he knew Quirrell was using a troll as his obstacle? That's rank stupidity!" Hermione was working herself into a rant. "If he knew Quirrell was using a troll, then he should have known who let that other troll in. And if Quirrell could control a troll, why wasn't he doing something useful about the one in the dungeon instead of leaving him for us? Did he _want_ a student to get killed? What is _wrong_ with the professors here?" She continued in a similar vein while Harri mulled things over.

It didn't add up. Everyone told Harri that Hogwarts had the best protective wards in the world and yet a troll had managed to get inside the Castle and attack students. A professor working for the Dark Lord had clearly deceived the Headmaster, and possibly the wards as well. And that didn't begin to describe the dangers in the Forbidden Forest. Hogwarts was either safe for students or it wasn't, and the evidence was mounting that the place was downright _dangerous_. And the Headmaster not only knew of these problems but at best was indifferent and at worst approved of them. That he didn't take protecting the Stone seriously was obvious by their successful penetration of his approved obstacles. Harri sighed, dejected. She was becoming disenchanted with the Wizarding World.

Neville interrupted, "Stop! We'll worry about that later. Focus on this problem first."

"Clearly," Harri started, "the obstacles are not good enough if four Firsties can breeze through them like we just did." She stared at the floor, thinking. "We need to add our own obstacles."

"What?" asked Ron, astonished. "We're kids, how can we come up with obstacles that will stop an adult wizard, much less even slow him down!"

Harri started to smile, "Easy, we just add to what's there already. What if we add a spell to the Fluffy's door — a spell that immediately wakes him when anyone starts to open that door? Having Fluffy awake and growling before you even get in the room would make things a lot harder. And another spell that makes a constant noise loud enough to drown out any music when the trap door is touched? If Fluffy wakes up every time he tries to lift the trapdoor, Grave-robber will have to fight Fluffy. Or how about a spell that makes the Devil's Snare immune to light and heat?"

By the time she finished, they were all smiling.

"Let's head back and start planning."

Getting back up to Fluffy was easy, Harri gave the other three rides up, and kept the broom when they closed the trapdoor. She also kept the flying key to the Key Room door. Just in case someone tried to get the Stone before they did their spells.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Minie's fixation on getting the best grades possible made it difficult to drag her away from revising her school notes and to research the spells they would need, not to mention the practice each spell required to master it completely. They could have divided the spells up, but then if anything went wrong they were buggered. Better safe than sorry, so they all learned the spells.

Thus, it took them another three weeks, almost to the middle of June, to return to the forbidden third floor corridor on the right-hand side with their prepared spells. This time they brought four brooms with them and a small bottle of blood they had each donated to over the last week until it was half-full. They had had to find and learn a stasis charm to keep the blood fresh.

After sealing the door-lock and putting Fluffy to sleep, they flew past the Devil's Snare and walked quickly to the Keys Room. Harri took the struggling key out of her pocket and unlocked the door to the Chess Room. That's where Hermione got to work, the chess pieces silently watching.

The quartet doubted the chess pieces would allow Minie to cross the board to the door when she obviously was going to be casting spells. Even if they explained they were trying to strengthen the protections, the chess pieces wouldn't chance believing them. Rather than attempt to cross the board, they had decided to cast them from this side of the board and Minie, it turned out, was the most accurate at aiming her spells.

She dipped the tip of her wand in the bottle of blood and cast the _imago_ reflection charm on the door and the entire opposite wall. If the wizard tried simply to blast the door in frustration, perhaps the reflected spell would take him out as well, or hurt him at the very least. She followed that up with _silex silicis, _at the door, twice_,_ first turning it and then its hinges into solid stone, each time redipping her wand in the bottle. Now it would take multiple applications of a bloodless _finite incantatem_ to undo the spells she had layered on the door, unless the wizard used his blood to amplify his spells as well. If he didn't then maybe they would frustrate the wizard enough to use violence and hurt himself with the reflected spell.

They backtracked to the Key Room, stopping first to repeat their delaying spells on the door _into_ the Chess Room. In the Key Room Ron and Harry used their brooms to catch thirty-eight of the keys and stuff them into a bag. Harri took her wand and liberally coated the end of it with blood. Minie held the bag and left an opening just large enough for a wand to fit. Nev kept the squirming door-key firmly in hand. Harri poked her wand into the bag, put her other hand on the door-key, and transfigured the captured keys into exact duplicates of the original, with one difference: they wouldn't work.

Ron reached into the bag and retrieved one key. They compared it to the original and found them indistinguishable. He turned around, inserted it into the lock, and watched as it changed back to its original shape, rendering it useless for opening the door.

"Perfect," said Minie.

The transfigured keys would revert to their original enchantment the moment the key touched the metal lock on the door. Voldemort, or the wizard, would have to capture each and every one of the thirty-seven keys only to discover at the end that the key that unlocked the door wasn't in the room at all. If he tried a _finite incantatem_ on all the keys, the blood spell would protect the thirty-seven while rendering the rest to their original forms. Repeated applications of the spell would result in all of them becoming useless at unlocking the door. So, after wasting all that time, he would have to resort to using his magic to remove their spells on the door.

The red-haired boy released the key, then cast a quick _reparo_ on the keys in the bag to fix any that might have damaged wings. Hermione released the captured keys. Ron dipped his wand in the bottle and cast _imago_ on the door and wall, twice, followed by two applications of _silex ferro_ on the door, its hinges and lock, and turned them into solid metal that looked like their original materials. Only a detection spell would reveal their change.

"I'd like to see how Grave-robber handles this door!" said Neville approvingly

They deliberately left one broom in the Key Room. If they didn't leave the wizard a way to catch the keys, he might go straight to unraveling their spells. Neville cast _noctis antro_, turning the room as dark as a deep cave, and which prevented all but the most powerful lighting and fire charms from working. The wizard would have to spend time removing the spell or try to find the keys in the dark. In any case the more time he wasted trying to get out of the room the more time there would be for the Headmaster to arrive.

Next they applied the same two delaying spells to the closed Key Room entrance door before flying to the Devil's Snare Room and repeating the spells on its exit door. While the other three hovered under the trapdoor, Neville repeated the _noctis antro_ spell. The wizard wouldn't know what was below the trap door until the plant had caught him.

Incendio _would light the room up, alright, but you'd have to do it twice to beat the blood spell! You wouldn't want to be there in the meantime!_ thought Harri, satisfied at their work.

It was a bit like leaving a pool or lake as they exited the trapdoor, one moment they couldn't see anything, the next their heads were coming out of a square of darkness. Neville lay beside the trapdoor and stuck his blood tipped wand into the darkness and cast the widest _non fuge_, no flying, spell he possibly could.

They carefully lowered the trap door. Hermione cast a modified sonorous spell, _concupiscentiam carnis sonus._ If someone moved the trapdoor, it would trigger an unrelenting loud noise. Then Ron cast another _silex silicis_ on the door, making it one piece with the floor. They turned their attention to the Cerberus and cast an _imago_ spell on the sleeping Fluffy. Fluffy, being a monster, was naturally resistant to most spells and it would take a powerful wizard to bring him down. The blood _imago_ made it that much more difficult.

Finally, Harri dropped metal filings into the door hinges to make them screech as the door opened. Not being detectable by magic, they would serve as a Muggle-style alarm for Fluffy. They had debated doing more to that door but decided that if Hagrid was feeding Fluffy, they didn't want to make his work any harder. Hopefully, he wouldn't oil the door hinges or try to fix the squeal.

While she did that, Ron slapped a flat rectangular piece of metal on the wall and fixed it in place with a sticking charm. They each had a matching metal piece in their robes. If Fluffy started barking, they would know it as their pieces would get warm and vibrate. If they tapped their metal piece with a wand, it would show whatever was happening in Fluffy's corridor. Muggle security systems brought to wizards!

It was a happy and tired, not so much physically as magically, quartet that made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. They had spent most of the afternoon adding protections to the Philosopher's Stone. They just hoped their additions would delay Grave-robber and Professor Quirrell long enough for the Headmaster to get on the scene and deal with the intruders.

Later that evening, their "security plates" vibrated and when they managed to get to a private place they saw Fluffy finishing his dinner — Hagrid had fed him. Harri thought it was a nice feeling to know that all their hard work was actually doing something.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Exams were every bit as difficult as they had imagined. Even with Hermione's color-coded study guides, and revising their class notes, they found themselves sweating, both literally and figuratively over each and every test. The practicals, while difficult, were actually not as bad as they expected — their extra-curricular research and practice for the Stone had required harder spells and practice than their coursework. The advanced spells made it easier to do the simpler spells on the exams.

To the amazement of his brothers, Ron wasn't complaining bitterly about how unfair the tests were and how awful he was sure he had done — Hermione wouldn't let him. Harri had said "no topless" if he didn't study with them, and annoyed both Ron and Hermione, although for different reasons. Hermione for Harri promising both girls would do it if Ron studied and Ron for Hermione promising they wouldn't if he didn't. While the girls being topless tended to distract the boys, they did end up spending far more time studying than they would have otherwise. And Hermione was teaching Harri the study skills she had been discouraged from learning when living with the Dursleys.

Harri had been terribly distracted during the exams by the thought that Grave-robber, with the help of Quirrell, was going to get the Stone in spite of their efforts. She had to remind herself that it would be impossible for her, or any of them, to survive against Professor Quirrell in a duel. As a salesman at Grunnings had said about her being a respectable girl, she had about as much a chance of that as a snowball's chance in hell! Quirrell was, after all, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and much better trained at such things than they were.

That, and her scar had been hurting ever since they had "reinforced" the traps below Fluffy. Harri just hoped that the distractions hadn't hurt her scores too much.

It was the day after the last exam for the First, Second, and Third years — the other years were finishing up in order with the Seventh years finishing late next week. Lunch had been a crowded leisurely affair with many of the students having skipped breakfast in order to sleep late. The Headmaster and the other Professors had seemed in a good humor, so maybe the students had done pretty well on their scores this year. Professor Snape, who still sported a scowl whenever he looked at the students in the Great Hall, had seemed less. . . scowly?. . . than usual. Even Professor Quirrell seemed to be relaxed and happy. Perhaps they were happy the year was finally over.

The quartet were outside by the lake, lazily enjoying the afternoon sun and watching the Weasley twins either annoying or playing with the giant squid. Harri was sulking. Nev and Minie had combined forces and refused to let her to strip so she could sun herself. They had even refused to let her take off her skirt to tan just her legs. And taking off her blouse? Ha! As Minie had said, "Don't even think about it!"

That had been the only thing the Dursleys had let her do at home. They let her sun herself in the backyard for an hour a week during nice weather, lying on the grass or on top of her dress — the towels were for normal people. She had had to "pay" for it, but at least she could _choose_ to do it on occasion. She had been hoping to do that here, without the "pay" part, but her friends had refused to let her. She was wondering if she might find a spot on the Castle roof or battlements where no one could see her.

On the other hand, her scar, which had been hurting like the blazes for the last week, was pain free today.

"Why do you think they give us almost a week after exams before sending us all home? Seems a great waste of time. I mean, at University as soon as you finish your exams off you go home! Even the Secondarys let the students leave once exams are completed."

Ron and Harri looked at each other and shrugged at Hermione.

Neville spoke up, watching as the giant squid picked up Fred — or was it George? — and tossed him halfway to the middle of the lake. "I think it's so the Hogwarts' Express doesn't have to make a bunch of trips back and forth. It must be expensive to run the train empty, and that's what it would be half the time. This way they only have to make one trip." The other twin quickly followed his brother.

"Why do we have to take the train, anyway?" asked Harri. "Why can't everyone just use the Floo or disapparate with parents?"

"Wards, I think," answered Nev. "My Gran said trying to move hundreds of students through the few Floo's at Hogwarts would be a nightmare, and the Muggle-born don't know how to Floo and that would slow things down. Not to mention so many first-timers getting lost.

"And having a whole bunch of Floo's, like at the Ministry, would be a security nightmare. Trying to set them up and take them down four times a year would be time consuming and even more expensive.

The twins were having great fun as the giant squid repeatedly threw them around the lake.

"Plus," he added, "using the train gives the Castle Wards time to adjust to the huge number of students coming or going without it being one big shock."

They mulled that over lazily. Harri's scar began to throb slightly.

Harri heard a distant buzzing to her left, like a bee, only it held steady, neither getting closer nor going away. She shifted slightly the right, and the buzzing got louder. She sat up and the buzzing stopped. She looked behind herself, she had been using her robes as a pillow. The plate!

"Fluffy!" she cried aloud as she grabbed her robe and started rummaging through the pockets looking for the security plate. The others started scrambling through their robes.

Harri tapped the plate with her wand and looked into the room. After turning the plate right-side up she could see spells flashing from beside the plate in the corridor but couldn't see who was doing it. Fluffy wasn't backing down and was trying to pin the Wizard with his paws.

"We gotta tell the Headmaster," yelled the girl as she sprinted to the Castle. Harri had plenty of practice running from Dudley and his gang and hit the Quidditch Pitch Entrance well before the others. She stopped and looked both ways. Where _was_ the Headmaster's Office?

While she dithered the others caught up.

"Merlin, but you're fast," gasped Ron.

Neville just leaned against the wall, wheezing. Minie was the last in and she didn't look any better than the other two.

"Minie! Which way is the Headmaster's Office?" demanded Harri, frantically.

Behind her, from above their heads came a voice, "Um, pardon me, did you say you wanted the Headmaster's Office?"

She spun around and looked up. In a frame just above their heads and across from the side entrance was a man in red robes.

"Sorry, I couldn't help but hear you. If you're looking for the Headmaster's Office, it's on the third floor, behind the Gargoyle. The Grand Staircase Tower is that way, about fifty yards, then take the fourth staircase on the right," he said as he pointed with his wand. "Take the left corridor and look for the Gargoyle on the left."

"Thanks," called Harri as she took off running. The other three groaned and started after her. Neville bowed to the Wizard, "Thank you, sir. . . ?"

"It's Google Stump, and my pleasure to be of help," the wizard in the painting smiled.

"Neville Longbottom, sir." Neville raced off after the others.

Harri skidded into the Grand Staircase Tower, barely stopping in time to avoid colliding with Professor McGonagall who had an armload of parchments. She stopped, panting, "Sorry, Professor. Do you know where the Headmaster is? I've got something terribly important to tell him."

"Miss Potter, you know there's no running in the halls."

Harri blinked, uh oh, Consequences. . . .

"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall," she took a deep breath, "but it's very important that I get to the Headmaster."

Ron charged into the Tower, slowly so suddenly that Hermione ran into him, almost knocking them both down. The professor stared at them.

"_What_ is going on here?" the woman demanded.

"Er, um, sorry Professor, it won't happen again," Hermione hesitantly replied as she and Ron straightened and separated.

"Professor!"

The woman returned her stare to Harri.

The small student gulped, and in a quieter voice continued, "It's really important that we find the Headmaster, Professor. It's about the Stone. You know, the Philosopher's Stone hidden under the trap door that Fluffy sits on? Well, anyway, someone's trying to steal it."

"How do you know about the Stone?" demanded the professor frostily. "And what were you doing on the third floor corridor when you've been expressly told to avoid it?"

The three exchanged glances. Should they tell her about the security plates?

"Well," Harri started, "We were worried that someone would try to steal the Philosopher's Stone after we learned that someone was killing unicorns to drink their blood to stay alive, which is a terrible thing to do unless you plan to do something more permanent real soon, that's what the centaurs told me, and the only way to do that is with the Philosopher's Stone. So we snuck into the corridor. . . ."

"ENOUGH!" roared the professor. "Ten points EACH from Gryffindor for directly disobeying the order to stay away from that corridor. You WILL stay away from there or there WILL be consequences! Do you _understand_? The Stone is of no consequence to you!"

Neville came running into the Tower, staggering.

"You will all," and here the Professor stared at each of them in turn, staring the longest at Neville, "go back outside and STAY outside until dinner, when you will eat and then go to your dorm and STAY there. Understand?"

The four nodded.

"The Stone is completely safe. You do not need to worry about it. Besides, you cannot speak with the Headmaster right now as he is on his way to London on an emergency. He will be gone all evening. If you must, you can speak with him tomorrow. Now, GO!" She pointed towards the front Entrance Hall.

"Yes ma'am," the four chorused, and scrambled to escape, walking fast, but not so fast as to be accused of running.

"Well," whispered Minie furiously, "that could have gone better," as they walked quickly out the Castle Front Entrance.

"What're we gonna do?"

Rona and Neville just looked at Harri. "What _can_ we do?" Neville asked.

Minie sighed as they stopped in the Front Courtyard. "We've already done everything we can."

"An owl, we need to send an owl to the Headmaster! We have to tell him that someone's trying to steal the Stone. Minie," Harri turned to girl, "do you have any parchment?"

Ron snorted.

"Yes," she replied, "but they're in my robes."

They had all taken off for the castle so fast none had thought to grab their robes.

"Right," said Harri. She turned and sprinted for the lake and their robes.

Ron groaned, but they started after her.

By the time Minie and Ron arrived Harri had found the parchment and quill and was just finishing the note telling the Headmaster that they had heard Fluffy barking and spells being cast, but that Professor McGonagall had insisted everything was alright, but they knew someone was trying to get Stone. And he had to hurry straight back before it was too late.

Harri put two fingers in her mouth and took a deep breath to whistle when she saw a white owl gliding towards them. "Hedwig!" she cried. "Quick, as fast as you can, get this message to the Headmaster. It's truly a life or death matter. Go!" The owl gave a loud bark and took off, rapidly disappearing from sight.

Neville came staggering up just as Harri pulled out her plate. It looked peaceful, with Fluffy lying quietly a bit farther down the corridor than they had seen before. You wouldn't have thought anything had happened from the view they could see.

"Do you think Fluffy chased him away?" asked Ron.

"Maybe," answered Harri.

They looked at each other uncertainly.

The next two hours crawled by. They spent half their time staring at the metal plates, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. Harri's scar continued to throb with pain, nothing too dramatic, but enough to put an edge on everything she said.

It was after dinner, when they were in the Common Room, that Minie noticed something wrong on the plates. Fluffy hadn't moved in over three hours! No animal sleeps in the exact same position for that long.

"He got by Fluffy! What should we do?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," replied the bushy-haired brunette, "The Headmaster should be here soon."

"But you don't _know_ that for a fact. And how far has Volde. . . Grave-robber made it?" asked Harri.

She knew that if Voldemort got the Stone, she was next on his list of things to do. He might not know that Harry was Harri, but it wouldn't take him long to figure it out if he was that powerful of a wizard. And he had unfinished business with her, not to mention revenge for whatever had happened ten years before.

"Doesn't matter," said Minie, "There's nothing we can do and you know it. None of us would last one second if that. . . wizard attacked us."

"But," Harri said, "we can't let him just get it and run away before the Headmaster returns."

"We could do what we did already, that should slow him down," suggested Neville. "Yes, he can make it through our spells, but it'll take him time, and that might be enough for the Headmaster to get here. If not, well, at least we know we tried!"

"But how will we get there?" asked Hermione. "We can't just walk out. You heard Professor McGonagall, she'll kill us! Or worse, expel us! She said there would be consequences if we went to that corridor."

Harri smiled. "I've got just the thing, remember Ron?"

Ron stared at Harri blankly for a few seconds then his eyes got big, "Blimey," he whispered, "Right!"

Harri darted up the stairs to her dorm room and dived into her trunk. It took her only seconds to grab the invisibility cloak and return.

Hermione and Neville were stunned when they saw the cloak hidden underneath her robes. "Okay, Ron and you, Nev, go up to your dorm room and we'll follow, like we're going to talk or something."

Once in the room, they quickly developed a strategy and, five minutes later, they were under the cloak and hovering by the portrait entrance. Fortunately, there were still a few students returning to the dorm from the Great Hall. A tense ten minutes later, the portrait door opened and two sixth years came in. Harri shot a quick pinching hex across the room, and that end of the room erupted into a shouting match. Using that as a cover, they managed to make their way out the entrance without anyone noticing it took much longer for the portrait door to close than normal.

They stayed at the edge of the corridors and made their way as quickly as possible to the third floor corridor on the right-hand side. A quick _alohomora_ and they were through the door. Their security plates were insufficient to provide the details they needed to show the corridor had endured a violent altercation. Fluffy wasn't dead, but he was barely alive. They quickly debated telling Hagrid, but decided they couldn't waste the time it would take to convince him they weren't trying to prank him.

The trap door Fluffy had guarded was gone, leaving a huge hole in the floor. They looked at each other. Once more, Minie lowered Harri into the Devil's Snare room. Their darkness spell was gone, and so was the Devil's Snare. Nothing remained but ashes. The remains of the door hung at an angle by a single hinge. They all gulped.

"_Reparo_," Hermione said. The door slowly flew back together.

Harri took out her silver potions' knife and cut her wrist, dragging her wand through the blood as it pooled up. Just another scar to add to the others there. "_Reparo_," she said, pointing at the door. The door shimmied a bit and somehow seemed more solid than it had a moment before. Silently, she opened the door and they filed through. Once in the passage, she closed the door, she again dragged her wand through the blood on her wrist and cast _silex ferro_ on the door, twice. Then she cast _imago_. They didn't know how much this would slow down the wizard trying to leave with the Stone, but even if it was only seconds it would be worth it.

They hurried to the blasted open Key Room door, and Ron repeated what Harri had done to the other door, dragging his wand through the blood on her wrist, which had slowed to a minor seep. The room was eerily silent, the keys all gone and various trinkets scattered across the floor. There were not nearly as many items as there had been keys. Harri had the impression that the wizard had reduced a number of the keys to dust. Neville handled the chore of restoring the Key Room exit door and resetting their spells, cutting a vein on his left arm to provide the blood. Afterwards he healed the cut, and Harri's too. She distractedly noted that it did not leave a scar. Neville silently stared at the collection of scars on her wrist for a moment.

As they approached the Chess Room entrance they heard spells being cast. Cautiously, they peered into the room around the ruins of the door.

The Chess pieces were rubble, not a single piece remained intact. There was a large mound of rubble by the exit door where they could see a wizard. He was just standing there, facing the door, and not moving. Harri's scar began to hurt in earnest, making it difficult for her to concentrate. The quartet exchanged looks. Harri pulled out her cloak and they all crowded under it again and waited.

Harri could hear the wizard talking to himself. "Master," he said, "I must rest a bit between the spells, these are quite taxing spells. Using _reducto_ on the other doors took far too much power from me."

"Enough of your excuses, remove the spells!" said the other raspy voice.

"Y-Yes, Master."

Where was the other wizard? Was he invisible? Or had he cast a_ Notice-Me-Not_ spell and they didn't see him?

The wizard she could see began casting _finite incantatem_ repeatedly.

The four students stole as quietly as possible into the room. Their plan was simple. Hide. When the wizard left this room, they would repeat their spells on the doors and follow him farther. They would not confront the wizard. They watched as he slowly dismantled their spells.

After two minutes by Hermione's watch, the wizard cast a final _finite incantatem_ and pushed the door open to walk through. Her scar immediately ceased hurting as much, she could think again.

After giving him five minutes to walk to the next door, they slowly made their way around the perimeter of the room, trying not to make any noise as they avoided the rubble. They listened carefully at the exit door.

"Once we know he's through the next room, Minie, you and Ron come back here, fix the doors, and reset the spells. Then hide. Neville and I will do the same to the doors in the next room. That way he won't suspect that you are hiding there. After all, how could the ones resetting the spells set the spells in rooms they sealed themselves out of? If we're lucky he'll think that the Headmaster just had the spells reset themselves."

They nodded, and the four slowly made their way through the passage to the next room. Just as Hermione had thought, this was the troll room, and it had taken the wizard only moments to deal with it. The exit door was already open. It looked as if the wizard had finished before they had even crossed the floor of the previous room. Harri turned to Hermione and Ron and motioned them to go back. They did.

Neville looked at Harri. She couldn't help but notice he was shaking a little bit. Well, so was she. "Confidence, Nev, Confidence!" He slowly nodded.

She took her knife and cut her wrist again. This door was intact, saving her a spell. Moments later it was a solid piece of the wall itself, with two blood _imago_ spells to reinforce it. "Come on Nev, let's hurry, I think I'm about to pass out from the smell of the troll." He was holding his nose with his free hand.

Before sealing the door, they checked the other end of the passage. The door there was open and no one was in the room. Moving as fast as was safe they sealed both doors, but they had no sooner stepped away from door than purple flames appeared. On the opposite wall, black flames hid the other door. "Well," said Harri, "That should help slow the bugger down."

"And us," added Neville.

"Well as someone famous once said, 'if it was easy, then anyone could do it.'"

Neville stared at her.

The room held only a table with seven bottles on it, and a parchment. They read the parchment. Neville looked up at Harri. "Huh?"

Harri sighed, "It's a logic puzzle, and I am just bollocks at those." She stared at the bottles, and then she squatted and really _looked_ at the bottles.

"Harri, you can't _see_ which one is the one we want."

She smiled broadly. "Oh, yes I can!"

She reached over and picked up the smallest bottle. "Look, this one is less than half full and the rest are all completely full. There's no wizard in here, so it can't be one of the two wines, and there's no body on the floor, so it can't be one of the three poisons. We didn't meet him coming here, so it can't be the one to return. Someone used this bottle and not the others, so it must be the right bottle.

"We'll both take a sip, and see if we can pass through the flames. If we can't, no harm done. If we can, then we'll seal the passageway doors and trap him in the last room. In either case, we hide in here under the cloak until the Headmaster returns."

Neville nodded. Harri took the first sip and handed the rest to Neville. She shuddered, it was like drinking a really cold glass of water. She could feel the cold hitting her stomach and spreading out into her body. They both walked to the far door. She slowly put her arm in front of her and walked into the flames. They were cold, but not hurtfully so. She continued onward.

They were so buggered, she realized almost immediately. There wasn't a passage with a door at the end. They were already in the final room. And Professor Quirrell was directly before them. Oh, boy, did she ever need Consequences now!

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

All trace of his stutter was gone. He seemed relaxed, but there was an air of tiredness about him. Had he exhausted himself going through their delaying spells? Did she dare hope?

"Miss Potter and Mr. Longbottom! What brings you here, I wonder?" He flicked his wand and ropes wrapped around them, binding them and preventing their escape. He peered at them intently as he came over and took their wands from their hands. "Well?" he asked.

Harri looked over at Neville. Terrified at what he was watching the boy didn't look as if he could talk — much less say anything coherent. He was so pasty white he made Professor Snape look as if he had a tan. Professor Quirrell still smelled strongly of garlic, but now there was an undertone of something rotten.

"Um, well, we were walking around after dinner," Harri hesitantly started, "and we noticed that the door on the third floor corridor wasn't closed, so we decided to take a gander, to see what the fuss was all about. We saw the Cerberus, it looked dead, and there were definite signs of spells. Then there was that big round hole in the floor."

"Fools. Instead of going to the staff to tell someone, you decided to investigate things yourselves, didn't you? Naturally, you think two First Year students can take on an adult wizard." He shook his head, amazed at their perceived stupidity. "Well, bad for you, then, and good for me. Especially with Albus off on a wild goose chase to the Ministry for the evening."

She gazed at him steadily. Had to be careful now, didn't want him to realize they had reset their spells and that there were actually four of them and not just Harri and Neville. "Uh, well, we did, actually. We went and told Professor McGonagall, but all she did was say that everything was just fine and took points off our House for being in the corridor with the Cerberus."

He laughed loudly, delighted, it seemed, at the obtuseness of his opponents. "You should have gone to Professor Snape, he would have believed you."

"But aren't you and he working together?" Confuse the issue and let him think they didn't trust the professor.

He laughed again. "Hardly. He used to be devoted to my Dark Lord, but no more! Not that it matters. Dealing with him would only have taken a few moments." He paused to look at the two students. The change from the Professor they knew to this wizard was remarkable, Harri thought, they were like two diametrically different people. Only the robes and turban were the same.

"And yet, here you are. Did you think you could stop me?"

"Oh, no!" she shook her head violently. "We know we'd be jolly well buggered if we tried that. We were just going to sneak after and then hide. The plan was to see who nicked the Stone and tell the Headmaster."

The Wizard stared at her intently. "You know about the Stone?

"Oh, yes, when we heard that the Headmaster was hiding something for Nicolas Flamel, and that he had made the Philosopher's Stone, well, it was rather obvious, wasn't it?" She looked back at him. "But why? That's what I don't get. Why would you want," she cut her eyes to Neville, "Voldemort to return?" Where was the other wizard she had heard talking? She wished she could warn Nev to keep an eye out for the other wizard.

"Ah," he said, smiling broadly. "That's a story for another time. Suffice to say that the Dark Lord is very powerful and he has shown me things that demonstrate he has a better vision for the future of the Wizarding World than the so-called Light Lords do." He turned his gaze on Neville.

Harri took a moment to look around the room. It was large with a high ceiling, like her Muggle-school gymnasium. At the other end from them was a small raised stage with piece of furniture. She couldn't get a good look at it. Was it a mirror?

"Enough of this, I've wasted too much time already on those stupid door spells. If not for them I would have been from here hours ago." He turned and stalked to the stage.

Harri suddenly had a blinding headache, the kind that make it difficult to think. She would have pressed her hand to her head scar if she weren't bound.

"Where is it hidden? I can see myself giving the Stone to my Master, but where is it hidden?" He turned to look around the chamber. Harri's scar hurt less, she realized.

"The girl," came a raspy voice, "get the girl. She feels. . . familiar."

Where was that other wizard?

"But Master," the professor whined, "what can she do that I cannot?" He turned a bit to face Harri. "Get the girl, fool!" came the voice again.

He waved his wand at the two students, but only the ropes binding Harri disappeared. She didn't move quickly enough for him, apparently. "Move, now!" he ordered. Her scar had receded to dull roar of pain.

She crossed the room, trying to control her shaking legs and arms. She was scared near-to-death by what was happening, but she didn't dare show it. She kept Consequences firmly in front.

She realized the furniture on the stage was an upright mirror as she climbed the two steps to the platform. The professor motioned her to stand between him and the mirror.

Looking at the mirror, she realized it was the Mirror of Desire. Unlike the previous times, though, she was alone in the reflection. In fact, the reflection looked exactly like a regular mirror.

"Well, what do you see," he demanded impatiently.

She couldn't very well say nothing, so she decided to steal from Ron. "Um, uh, I see myself holding the Quidditch Cup, and, uh, oh! I'm the Head Girl!" she blurted out. As she frantically tried to think of something else to mislead the professor and keep him from getting the Stone, her reflection reached inside her robes and lifted a red stone into view. Her reflection smirked, then put the stone back in her pocket. Harri's eyes widened in understanding as she felt a weight settle into her left pocket. Somehow, her reflection had put the Philosopher's Stone in her pocket!

"You stupid muff," Quirrell said, and pushed her away from the mirror. She stumbled back down the steps, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as she could without it being obvious. The Headmaster should be here soon, all she had to do was delay.

"Let me see," demanded the voice.

"But Lord, you are still weak and we expended much magic," argued the professor.

"Silence! I have the strength for this. Let me see!"

"Y-Yes, Master." The professor put his wand in a pocket and began to remove his out-sized turban, unwinding it carefully. He was partially facing the mirror and Harri, and what she saw as he removed the turban was horrifying.

On the back of his head, hidden under the turban, was a face. No, a parody of a face. It was thin, distorted to fit the shape of Quirrell's head, chalk white, with slits for nostrils, like a snake, instead of a normal nose. The eyes were blood-red, glaring at the small girl. And it wasn't even centered on the back of his head. The pain in her scar grew worse.

Harri took a step back, this. . . thing. . . was Lord Voldemort she instinctively knew. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was turned so that both faces could see her. How had the Castle wards missed detecting something so vilely evil? How could the Headmaster have _not_ noticed such evil when sitting not five feet away in the Great Hall during meals?

"Yes, I see. The girl does feel familiar. . . almost like I know her. But no matter. She is weak, but not without a small amount of cunning. Give me the Stone you have in your pocket, girl, and I shall let you live."

Harri turned to take off running. She had to get away. She frantically searched for anything that might help.

Professor Quirrell lunged at her the same time as she heard Voldemort yell, "SEIZE HER!"

Harri was fast, but Quirrell's longer legs and reach made it a short chase. They tumbled to the floor, with the Professor atop the small child. Harri's scar blazed into painful life, paralyzing her with pain, reducing her resistance to nothing. With a triumphant cry, the man clutched her by the throat with one hand and reached to search her robes for the Stone with the other.

Instead, after barely flipping her robes open, he screamed in pain and released her, clutching one hand with the other. The hand he had gripped her throat with was turning black!

"My hand, Master, my hand!" cried the professor.

"Then KILL her, you fool!"

The professor reached into his robe for his wand, his face wracked with a mixture of determination and pain.

The moment he released her, the pain subsided and she could think again. She bent up to grab at his wand hand, grasping the wrist in both her much smaller hands. She had no hope of stopping him, he was simply too strong as an adult, but if touching her caused pain. . . .

The professor screamed again and his wand clattered to the floor as her scream joined his. He fell sideways to the floor, his legs still half atop her.

As if from far away, she heard a voice yelling "KILL HER! KILL HER!"

She let go of the wizard's hand, it was too painful to continue to hold. For a moment neither moved. Harri knew she had to do something; Quirrell could do wandless magic so he could still bind her and then kill her even without a wand. Maybe she could blind him to get more time to think.

His face contorted in pain and hatred, the wizard stared at her for a second. She lunged toward Quirrell, throwing herself over the man and grabbing his face with her left hand and the back of his head with the other. Queasily, she realized that she could feel the eyes of both Voldemort and Quirrell moving against her palms an instant before pain was the only thing she could feel. And their screams the only things she could hear.

The pain made her want to let go, but knowing he would kill her if she did made her determined to hold on. She maintained her grip on both faces, screaming, wondering if this might not kill her as well, until everything turned black.


	13. Consequences

_Note: 7/1/2015, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**13\. Consequences**

The first thing she noticed was the lack of pain. Sure, she was sore, but active pain? None, not even in her scar, which she realized had not really happened all year — it had been a low-grade ache at even the best of times.

Second was the soft bed, almost as soft as she imagined a cloud would be. She couldn't be dead or she wouldn't be sore, so she was still in the land of the living. The question was where?

Third, well, third was the feeling of being watched by a stranger, not nearly as pleasant as the first two. Who was watching her?

She peeked out through her lashes. White. A ceiling she had seen before. The Hospital Wing. Well, _that_ settled the where question. From the direction of the light coming in the windows, it was late afternoon. Someone was breathing to her left. She turned her head to look. Seated on an over-stuffed armchair beside her bed was the Headmaster, eyes twinkling.

"I am happy to see you are awake, Harri."

"Wh. . . ." she managed to croak out, her throat was so dry.

He smiled gently, "Your companion adventurers are all in excellent shape. They will be quite relieved to hear you are awake. They have been rather worried about you. Madam Pomfrey has threatened to hex them several times now to get them to leave your side to eat or sleep. They are currently at dinner. You will get to see them shortly."

At the sound of voices, Madam Pomfrey had bustled over and lifted Harri sufficiently to give her a sip of water to soothe her throat while the Headmaster had been talking.

Adventurers? Harri started to remember why she was in the Hospital Wing again and sat up, "The Stone! Quirrell! Did he get it? Did he escape?"

"You needn't worry about those things," he replied dismissively.

She knew that look. She'd seen it many times before on adults, usually those who thought they knew everything and that a stupid slut like her would never be able to understand. She remembered a phrase a Grunnings' salesman had said, repeatedly, over the years: 'I must be a mushroom because everyone keeps me in the dark and feeds me bullshit.'

"But the Stone," she insisted, "I had it and Quirrell was trying to take it from me!"

"You needn't worry," the old man repeated, "Professor Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"How do you know that?" she demanded.

He sighed, finally realizing she wasn't going to give up. "The Stone is no more. It has been destroyed."

"The Flamels!" Harri interrupted, "They'll die without it! Who destroyed the Stone?"

"Ah," said the wizard, "You did do it right," nodding as if pleased.

Wait, she 'did do it right'? She 'did do it right'? He _wanted_ her to know about the Philosopher's Stone and the Flamels? He _wanted_ her to risk her life, and her friends' lives, fighting Voldemort? He _wanted_ a useless slut like her to go up against a full-grown adult wizard? He wasn't _daft_, he was flipping off his trolley_!_

He smiled at her condescendingly, "They agreed that the Philosopher's Stone is too dangerous an object to be left around and so have destroyed it. Never fear, though, they have enough of the elixir to last for a decade or so, more than sufficient to wrap up their affairs."

"But they'll die," she stated. Did someone's life mean so little to him that he could be this relaxed, this disinterested, about them willingly giving up their lives when he asked? Was he really _that_ much of a heartless bastard? Uncle Vernon could take lessons in cold-heartedness from this old wizard.

"For those who have lived long enough," he continued patronizingly, "life can become predictable and boring. The Flamels have decided they are ready for the next great adventure. They do appreciate your efforts at keeping the Philosopher's Stone safe, though, and send you their thanks." He smiled at her again, his eyes twinkling madly.

He just didn't get it, did he? Those two people had lived for over 600 years and, _bang_, they were perfectly happy to _die_ just because this wizard asked them to? She didn't believe it. He was leaving something important out, she knew it. But what?

He paused a moment, considering, "Quirrell, alas, is gone without a trace."

She studied the Headmaster — Consequences or Confidence? She collapsed back on the bed, noticing a huge pile of boxes and letters on a table beside the Headmaster. Except for a toilet seat buried at the bottom, it looked like the stock from an entire candy store, a candy mountain. Seeing where she was looking, the Headmaster said, "Tokens from your friends and admirers, of which you appear to have many. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley are responsible for the toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, was not amused. She thought it might not be very hygienic, but they promised it had been scourgified at least ten times, so she allowed it."

"Why," Confidence asked, "was the Stone even here?"

"Hogwarts has the strongest protective wards in the world. The Stone was safer here than anywhere else, and Voldemort was searching for it." He smiled kindly at her.

"The strongest wards?" she said. "Clearly not strong enough. Maybe you should have someone take a look at them." Strongest wards in the world and Voldemort had been teaching students DADA for the entire year and a troll wandered the halls. The wards were rubbish. Or maybe the person in charge of the wards had the brains of a bell-end.

"And this is a _school_! Why on _earth_ would you hide something here that you know will bring the most dangerous and powerful Dark wizard in the _world_ to a school full of _children_?"

The wizard blinked at her criticism, then moved on, ignoring her comments.

"What happened down in the dungeons is already the stuff of legends: the fair damsel rescues the brave knight and saves the day, vanquishing the villain." He paused, smiling, "Mr. Longbottom has been quite vocal in describing your courage and determination." The old wizard seemed amused, but the twinkling in his eyes decreased slightly. Harri got the feeling he hadn't wanted details about what happened in those obstacle rooms to be public.

Nev. She smiled, thinking that she'd have to get the story from him about what happened after she passed out, as this old fart wasn't going to do that.

"Did you get our owl? When did you get back?" The questions she didn't ask were 'How long did I lie there helpless on the floor?' or 'How close was I to dying?'

"We must have missed each other, I'm afraid. I arrived at the Ministry and immediately discovered the message requesting my presence was false. I returned as fast as I could."

Neville had something about traveling through the Floo and that both Hogwarts and the Ministry had them. Why had the Headmaster not taken a near-instantaneous method of travel and instead wasted hours traveling? And how had he traveled? By broom? The image of the old Wizard, long beard whipping in the wind as he cruised along on a broom was only slightly amusing when she knew he could have been there and back in minutes.

"Where are Nev, Minie, and Ron?"

"Your friends are outside, at the moment." He leaned closer, as if confiding something secret. "I wanted to be here when you woke. I was sure you would have questions they could not answer." He straightened, still smiling pompously. "Your friends tell me it was your idea to put spells on the doors to delay Professor Quirrell. I'm pleasantly surprised that you were able to find them. They were unexpectedly strong." He gazed at her, still smiling, but she had the feeling he was not as pleased as he pretended. And, she noticed, he wasn't answering her as openly as he pretended.

"How long have I been in here?"

"Three days."

Harri was stunned. Three days? She must have been hurt much worse than she had thought. Well, at least she hadn't died.

They talked, or rather, the Headmaster talked. By the time he finished, most of her questions were unanswered, but she knew she was in deep shit. Voldemort hated her. Voldemort would be back. No explanation of how, no explanation of why, no guesses of when. How she had defeated Voldemort, both times, he explained with some rubbish about how her mother's love had saved her.

Nope, Confidence didn't believe that for a second. She couldn't have been the only child whose mother had begged Voldemort to take her life instead. And her mother's love had never saved Harri from her Uncle's attentions or use as prostitute. The images of those times always hovered just behind Confidence, she knew.

Harri just kept thinking about mushrooms. The more he spoke, the more mushrooms she saw. She noticed that he kept giving her odd glances every once in a while, and the twinkle seemed to dim a bit each time.

Madam Pomfrey came over. "That's enough, Albus. She needs to rest and restore her magical core."

"Of course, Poppy." He stood, banishing his armchair as he did so. He looked back at Harri, "Perhaps we can speak more at a later time." Then he congenially walked away.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Madam Pomfrey was a very nice woman, but she was also very strict. "Please," begged Harri, resorting to her 'puppy eyes.' Ron had helped her perfect the look; he insisted his little sister used them to keep both his mother and father wrapped around the little girl's finger. And he thought Harri needed every advantage she could grab. For a boy, Ron was rather considerate.

The Healer sighed. She had come to an agreement with the others that they could visit Harri as long as they were quiet. She had drawn the line at letting them sleep with the girl — two were boys, for Merlin's sake! — but had relented to let Hermione do so after the third time she had come to check on the girl that first night and found the bushy-haired pest cuddling up to her patient. How the girl had managed to sneak through the halls three times without detection by Prefects or Professors she could not fathom. The Headmaster had been vastly amused and told the Healer it was up to her, but that maybe the physical closeness might hurry the comatose girl's recovery. Skin time, he had called it.

"Five minutes. And if you get excited or too noisy, out they go!"

"Thank you Madam Pomfrey, we'll be quiet! I promise!"

She harrumphed, then said, "But first you must take these potions," and lined up six bottles in front of the candies on the table. "And here's your dinner." A plate appeared on a new side table, with a big glass of juice.

Her three friends came hurrying over as soon as the door opened. Harri used her pillow to prop herself up to talk to them.

"Harri, we were so worried! The Headmaster brought you out of that last room and you weren't moving, we couldn't even see if you were breathing! Nev told us what happened and I cannot believe. . . ," Minie's rant came to a dead halt, she gulped, and then whispered, "I can't believe you _killed_ Professor Quirrell!"

Harri made a hushing move with her hand, "Ron, put up a _muffliato_ spell, quick!" She waited for him to finish that. "Okay, Nev, what happened?"

Neville gave her a long look, then took a deep breath and let it out. "We haven't told _anyone_ what really happened. I told the Headmaster the professor grabbed you and you both were rolling on the floor, and that he said something about your touch burning him. Then you hit his wand as he was starting a spell and he hit himself instead of you with it. I told him I didn't know the spell but that he started screaming and smoke came from him and then he disappeared. And then you passed out and I couldn't wake you." The boy stopped. "That's what everyone thinks happened." He paused again.

Ron, meanwhile, was divesting Candy Mountain of its Chocolate Frogs. Harri nibbled on her dinner.

"What really happened, and I didn't tell anyone because I thought it might best be kept private, was that when he grabbed you by the throat his hand started to burn and you both screamed. Scared the bloody hell out of me."

"Language," Hermione said reflexively, getting a glare from both Ron and Nev in return.

"I could see smoke coming from where he had grabbed your throat, even after he let go," the boy continued. "Then he tried to use his wand, but you grabbed his arm and he dropped it. Then you grabbed his head and you both started screaming while smoke poured out all over the place until I couldn't see either of you. Then you stopped screaming. I was really worried." Neville stopped and took a breath. "Quirrell kept screaming for a while longer before stopping." He paused. "It was another few minutes before the smoke cleared and I could see anything. You were lying on the floor, face down but legs sideways, and there was no sign of the Professor. It took another few minutes before the spell on the binding gave out. I guess he didn't put too much power into it."

Hermione shuddered, staring at Harri as her mind conjured the scene for her. Ron continued to lay waste to Candy Mountain. Harri finished her dinner, not noticing as she did so.

"When I got to you I saw that you were actually lying on a bunch of ash. Quirrell had completely burned up, clothes and everything. Except for his turban cloth, which was over by the mirror. Fortunately our wands were lying in the ash unharmed." Neville reached into his robe and handed Harri her wand. She tucked it in her wand holster, which amazingly, she was still wearing.

The boy opened his robes a bit farther and lifted another wand out of a pocket just a bit, "This is the one he dropped," Neville whispered as he let it slide back into the pocket. "I thought it might be useful." He gave her a crooked smile.

"You were breathing so I knew you were alive, but I didn't know any spells other than one my Grandma taught me for small cuts. So I cast that on you about twenty times. I don't know if it helped but it couldn't hurt and I felt like I was at least doing _something_ helpful.

"I tried to make you comfortable and put a cushion charm under you.

"I _scourgified_ the ash, took me three tries, but when I finished you could eat off that floor! As far as anyone knows, Quirrell and Grave-robber escaped. Not that anyone really believes me when I said that Grave-robber had possessed the professor, they think I'm exaggerating."

"I told the Headmaster about Quirrell's hand smoking and turning black when he grabbed your throat, and that he staggered away from you after casting that spell before falling and disappearing."

He sighed. "Then I waited. I didn't want to go back to the room with the potions because I wasn't sure I could get back to you." He paused a few moments. "That mirror is really weird." A sad smile came to his face as he remembered what he saw in it.

"How long did it take," asked Harri, "before anyone came?"

"Over an hour." Neville suddenly grinned, "and that's partly our fault."

Harri raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"It seems the spells we cast took a bit of time to knock down! The Headmaster couldn't just cast a spell to cancel all the spells we put up."

Hermione and Ron grinned, "Yeah," Ron said, "it was fun watching him cast _finite incantatem_ over and over to get into the Troll and Potions Rooms."

"I got the impression he expected to do it just once and, poof, the spells would go down," added Hermione, "We made him work at it." Harri could hear the satisfaction in her voice. She leaned closer and whispered, "We didn't tell anyone about using blood to make the spells stronger."

They spent some time just talking about stuff, and Ron told her how the Gryffindor team had beaten the Ravenclaw team, but that still left them dead last in the House ratings.

However, the fickle wizards and witches at Hogwarts had changed their minds on hearing of the quartet's adventures in the dungeons. It seemed that Harri and Hermione had gone from pariahs shunned and disliked by Gryffindor and the other Houses for putting the Slytherins firmly in the lead, to celebrated heroes and heroines.

And Harri shared her conclusions about the Headmaster and how he had intended for them to go chasing after Professor Quirrell. That he was completely unsurprised to learn that Voldemort had possessed the professor. He had not even been surprised that the four had managed to successfully get through all the barriers. They shared her disgust at his lack of concern for the coming deaths of his former partner and partner's wife. Minie's deep and abiding belief in the infallibility of those in authority was taking a severe beating.

All too soon, Harri to nodded off.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri had the most wonderful dream as she woke the next morning. Someone was holding her, surrounding her, doing nothing but wrapping their arms around her. She had never had that feeling before. She sighed, contented. Then realized she wasn't dreaming!

She carefully rolled onto her back and saw that it was Hermione in bed with her. Her friend was in her pajamas while she was in the typical hospital gown. She snuggled up against her best friend, wishing the pajamas and gown were not in the way, and went back to sleep.

Later, Ron and Neville showed up with breakfast for the two girls. Hermione disappeared behind a privacy screen to change out of her bedclothes while Harri just stayed in bed — Healer's Orders. They had spent the morning nibbling at Harri's pile of sweets, to the dentists' daughter's horror, and played several games of Exploding Snap, to the Healer's horror. They had gotten away with the candy by pointing out that daily hygienic magic could take care of any problems with teeth and the Exploding Snap by pointing out that no one else was in the Hospital Wing and a simple silencing spell would allow Madam Pomfrey to do her end-of-year paperwork undisturbed. And that it was a harmless pursuit that would keep them out of trouble.

The hospital gown had annoyed Harri to no end until she finally discarded it in disgust and sat atop the bed-sheets playing the game. For some reason the boys couldn't seem to win any games after that. Madam Pomfrey didn't notice until lunchtime, at which point she ordered the others to go to the Great Hall to eat. Then she lectured Harri about the impropriety of sitting naked in front of the boys, to which Harri had simply responded, "They're my friends, they don't care."

Shaking her head disapprovingly, the Healer then ordered Harri to take a nap after she finished her lunch. Harri tried to argue against it, but fell asleep only minutes after eating, anyway.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

To Harri's immense relief, Madam Pomfrey readily agreed to let her attend the end-of-year feast. Slytherin, to no one's surprise, had won the House Cup by two-hundred points and the Great Hall was decorated to reflect that. Naturally, Harri arrived late because Madam Pomfrey wanted to check "One last time!" to make sure Harri had recovered. That meant every eye in the Great Hall was on her when she entered and walked over to the spot her friends had reserved for her at the Gryffindor table. It made her very self-conscious, and what made it worse were that numerous students were standing up to stare at her, as if they had never seen a short Firstie before. All she could think was that if they stared enough they would see that she was a slut, so she took her place at the Gryffindor table as quickly as possible and kept her head down.

Then, Headmaster Dumbledore started speaking. He congratulated the Slytherins, but then said, ". . . recent events must be taken into account."

Harri looked up at the High Table as a sinking feeling hit her stomach. Confidence or Consequences?

He started with Hermione, ". . . fifty points for a well-thought out, researched plan." Ron got another fifty points for ". . . excellent spell casting beyond his Year's level." It was when he commended Neville for his ". . . excellent spell casting and use of healing spells under desperate conditions" and awarded him fifty-five points that Harri became agitated and upset. Surely, he wasn't going to do _that_, was he?

The Gryffindor table had erupted into whispers, they could do the math as well as anyone and were eagerly anticipating the last point award that couldn't be less than the others. The Slytherins, who were no slouches at math, were staring at the Headmaster, split between wide-eyed in shock and furious at the seeing the coveted House Cup snatched from their fingers.

She squirmed in her seat on the bench when he announced her name. What should she do? Could she do nothing? When he got to the part, ". . . transfigurations, and nerve and outstanding courage I award fifty-fi. . ."

She couldn't stand it and jumped to her feet, shouting, "NO! I REFUSE! IT'S NOT FAIR!"

Everyone in the hall was gobsmacked, mouths dropping open in shock at her outburst. The Headmaster paused, caught mid-word, and stared at her. The entire hall was staring at her. The silence was so deep you could hear the poles holding the banners overhead creak as the banners waved in the slight breeze from the windows.

"It's not fair," she yelled, "You can't take it away from them at the last second just because you can!" It used to happen to her all the time. She would get the right answers on a quiz or homework, or finish a difficult project, but Dudley would get the higher score because he was _the special one,_ and the teachers knew it. She was the one they hated, she was the one they attacked, she was the one they hurt. They reduced — no, stole! — her grades to make him feel better. They would do almost anything to prevent her from being first. If she complained, they called her a whiner, an attention-whore, a slut who would do anything for attention.

And the Headmaster was doing it now, only to the 'hated' Slytherins.

"The points should have been awarded last week, when everything happened!" she stomped her foot for emphasis, then continued. "Waiting 'til now is cruel! It's mean! I REFUSE THE POINTS!" She slammed herself back down on the bench, arms crossed on her chest frowning furiously, daring anyone to disagree.

And then Consequences made her loudly say, "**And now you have to take points away for me rudely interrupting your speech**."

Dead silence greeted her statements. The Slytherins were staring at her like she was off her trolley — the small Gryffindor girl rumored to have faced off against the Dark Lord in the dungeons was defending _them_? The Gryffindors were in shock that _anyone_ would refuse points to the House, especially in favor of the Slytherins and were staring at her in horror. The Ravenclaws were exchanging glances as they evaluated her argument and a few were regarding her with a new respect. The Hufflepuffs were stunned that anyone would act against their own House in such a brazen display of rebellion.

The Professors were nonplussed at the girl's outburst and exchanging glances and a few whispers.

The Headmaster blinked a few times. Harri stared at him through her fringe. Somehow, she could tell that his eyes were twinkling madly, and the start of a smile hovered on his lips.

"As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, I award Gryffindor fifty-five points."

He had ignored her, just as the Dursleys always did. The Wizarding World was turning out to be as disappointingly unfair as the Muggle World. The Gryffindor table started buzzing and was quickly growing in volume. The Slytherins were muttering undoubtedly vile comments under their breath. Harri had a few of her own to add.

"Unfortunately," the old wizard continued, "I cannot ignore such a disrespectful outburst from a student, Miss Potter, and you force me to penalize your House ten points."

Silence hit the room again as it slowly sank in that the points were a _tie_!

"So, it is for first time in the history of Hogwarts that there is a tie for the House Cup between Slytherin and Gryffindor." Dumbledore clapped his hands and half the banners disappeared, replaced with new ones in the Gryffindor colors. The banners now alternated the two Houses across the hall. The giant banner behind the High Table also changed, with a Gryffindor Lion joining the Slytherin Serpent. Both looked uncomfortable to be sharing with the other.

The Great Hall erupted into pandemonium.

Most of the Gryffindor table was furious with Harri for giving up the House Cup and forcing them to share with Slytherins, but her friends, and a number of others, approved. It _was_ unfair suddenly to award a single House points at the end-of-year- feast. The points _should_ have been awarded a week ago. There would be many in-House debates on this issue, but Harri's friends felt that most, if not all, of the Gryffindors would come around to their point-of-view. In the meantime, most of the fickle Wizarding community known as Hogwarts had once more turned against the girl.

The opinions of the wizards and witches at Hogswarts regarding Firstie Harriet Potter changed directions more frequently than the weather flags on the castle roof.

The Slytherins were confused. Many times over the year, Harri had complained about unfairness in their treatment, but to turn down the House Cup over it was. . . unfathomable. Many expected in-House debates over the Gryffindor/Slytherin feud, and the small girl named Harriet Potter, in the future. Was she on their side, or not? Or was she forging a new direction entirely? The older, smarter Slytherins decided to take a wait and see attitude, and consoled the younger members they trusted to do likewise.

A select few in all Houses noted how an insignificant muggle-born Gryffindor Firstie had managed to actually _confront_ and _influence_ the Great and Powerful — and some said Wise — Albus Dumbledore. Not many wizards or witches had the temerity to try that, yet she had, and succeeded. Very few could make that claim.

Plus, wasn't this the same girl who had found and captured a Death Eater before she even _arrived_ at Hogwarts? And not just any Death Eater, but one of the Dark Lord's inner circle who had been thought dead for the last ten years? Not even the Great and Powerful Dombledore had noticed the animagus sneaking in and out of Hogwarts for _years, and she caught him the first time she saw him_!

Not two months later, she fought a Mountain Troll and _won_! Without a scratch, on her, even. Most adult wizards could not have done that.

And then there was the story told by her friend that just last week this slip of a girl had fought off their DADA Professor. He had even claimed that the Dark Lord had been involved and defeated as well! Preposterous! And yet, there was no denying that the Dark Lord had been defeated, if not outright killed, by a _baby_ just over ten years ago, so this latest claim could not be dismissed out of hand. And the point awards clearly demonstrated that something momentous had occurred behind that locked door on the third floor corridor.

How many _adults_ could boast of such successes against Dark creatures? And in less than a year?

There was far more to this Harriet Potter than there appeared on the surface. She would bear close scrutiny in the future.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

In all the excitement Harri had managed to forget that exam results were still do, but Hermione was quick to remind her the next day at breakfast. She spent the morning sunning herself at the very top of the battlements hidden behind a variation of the _Notice-Me-Not_ spell that merely blurred her figure so that no one could see anything more than that there was someone there. Minie had joined her, but was wearing a swimsuit. Ron and Neville had shown up later. They had gone to the Clubroom and asked for a way to locate the two girls and a map had appeared marking where they were with instructions on how to get to them.

After lunch, they went swimming in the lake. Fred and George were charging students a knut for the giant squid to threw them across the shallow end of the lake and had quite a line formed of happy repeat customers. It had turned into an impromptu contest for the best tricks while airborne. What the giant squid was getting out of it nobody could figure out.

Watching as Ron and Neville took turns made her wish she knew how to swim, but there hadn't been anyone to teach her. Why would anyone want to take the time to teach a slut to swim when they could be using the slut in bed, instead?

After dinner, the Heads passed out the completed scores. Ron had done surprising well, he thought, with passes in all courses and even two Exceeds Expectations! Neville was pleased to get as many Outstandings as he did. Naturally, Hermione had among the best scores of anyone in Hogwarts. Harri's scores put her in the top ten of Firsties, well behind Hermione's first place, but still pleasing her greatly.

The next day was Sunday, and the train trip home was, of course, a madhouse of students racing up and down the train, thrilled to have time off for summer, saying goodbye to friends, and making plans to get together for weekend sleepovers. The seventh years were giving their last goodbyes to friends they might not meet anytime soon, or making plans to get together later.

The farther the train went from Hogwarts, the more depressed Harri got. She was returning to the Dursleys for the summer.

Neville explained to Harri how the "no underage magic at home" thing worked. "You see, we mustn't let the muggles know about magic and because kids are careless they made this rule. But it's so unfair. The Pure-bloods all live in mansions where they have powerful wards that can hide magic from muggles, so those kids can do all the magic they want, and even study and practice ahead because their families' have old wands that don't have the tracking spell on them.

"My dad told me," put in Ron, "That they can't track who does what, so what they really do is look for magic in areas where there are muggle-born children. If the ministry magic detector goes off near the home of a muggle-born the Ministry knows there aren't any adults in the area and so it must be that muggle-born kid doing underage magic."

Hermione immediately started into a rant, "That's so unfair! How do they know it isn't an adult wizard traveling or doing something there? What if someone like Malfoy were to fly his broom at night to. . . to Harri's house and then do magic? They would just blame Harri? That is so irresponsible of them! Why don't they simply fix the wands so that they only work in a magic-rich environment like Hogwarts or Diagon Alley? Or even. . . ."

Harri tuned out her girlfriend and thought about the last eleven months.

At this time last summer, the only life she had to look forward to was as a Grunnings Drills slut, with the Director as her pimp. Living on the charity of relatives, malnourished, friendless, treated like trash, a freak without a family, what little value she had was as a vessel for the lust of men and women her uncle wanted bribe.

Incredible the difference a year could make. She was rich, she had not only vaults of money and property, she owned businesses that could easily support her and whatever she wanted to do. She had as much food as she wanted and she no longer looked on the edge of starvation. She had friends who would fight for her, friends she would die for. Her name was famous, newspapers reported anything she did or said. Her future was whatever she wanted it to be, this summer she was a _witch_ and could do _magic_.

She did have a few problems, the biggest of which was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who seemed to think she was a dunce and he was suspiciously lax about the safety of the students. Several students seemed to think she was their personal enemy for reasons she could not understand. On the other hand, she had teachers, professors, who supported her in her studies, for the first time ever. She had people who _said_ they were looking out for her better interests, and from what she could see so far, they _meant_ what they said! The actions of the Dursleys over the summer would be the proof of that.

And the best part was, she had control over her body. Nobody told her she had to have sex with anyone, and if she didn't want to let anyone touch her that way, she could say no and they had to stop. She still marveled at how that worked.

She had let Nev and Ron do some things to her — mostly playing with her budding titties — and when she said, "Enough," they _stopped_! They might sigh or try to talk her into letting them continue, but they _never_ tried to _force_ the issue. She knew she was teasing them awfully, especially when she walked around nude in the Clubroom. But, she knew, they would never do anything without her permission, and that made all the difference in the world! Only a true friend would respect her word like that. She almost wished she could go naked everywhere just so she could say "no," but knew that was ridiculous and dangerous. She knew that not every boy respected girls, regardless of the girl's background. And for her, she knew, her background made her a target of their desire.

And when she did want more, Hagrid was _so_ respectful. She'd finally got him to stop saying "shouldna' done that," and he never assumed what she wanted when she visited him. If she wanted tea or simply to talk, then was fine with him. If she wanted more, that, too, was fine.

The other professors never questioned her over what she did with her friends or Hagrid. The witches would sigh resignedly and shake their heads if they saw anything they considered "improper" and occasionally lecture her on keeping such things private or tell her to always ask Hermione before doing those things, but that was all. Minie never mentioned anything Harri did with Hagrid so that was never an issue for discussion. Harri wasn't even sure that Minie knew what Harri occasionally did with Hagrid.

Professor Snape just pretended to not notice at all, or simply said, "detention tomorrow," to her, and then spent the detention improving her potion skills or pointing her in the direction of research she should follow. Occasionally, he would have her clean cauldrons, but that wasn't any worse than cleaning pots at the Dursleys. A large number of pots, but still. . . .

The Headmaster, those few times she had seen him had merely looked at her with a twinkle in his eye.

The Wizarding World was not the wonderful fantasyland she had thought it was at first, it had its dangers. The Headmaster was a problem. On the Light side, everyone liked him and he seemed quite concerned with the welfare of the students, but on the Dark side, he used his popularity to get things done for him and he appeared not to care about truly safe-guarding the students from danger. Witness the problems with homicidal Voldemort followers, three-headed dogs, trolls, and even students harassing and hexing each other in the halls whenever they thought they could get away with it — which they frequently did.

And, in the regular, non-magical world, while Dudley and his gang had pursued her relentlessly, even on the rare occasions when they her caught the worst that happened was a beating and maybe a rape or two — god knows, they were not trying to outright _kill_ her! The Wizarding World was definitely more dangerous than the world she had lived in up to last year.

But she could do _MAGIC_ in the Wizarding World! And she could _defend_ herself, being a girl did _not_ make her automatically weaker than boys.

And now she was home for the summer and she should consider what she should do. Her trunk had wards to prevent magic detection, so she didn't have to worry about that whole under-age magic use thing, and she had all the supplies she needed to do her potions homework in the trunk, as well. All she needed to do, really, was figure out a way to stock up on food in the trunk's kitchen and she'd never have to worry about going hungry this summer.

Perhaps she should shrink her trunk, take the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley, and then have one of the market merchants fill it for her. And it could all be done wandlessly. Yes, that was a project for the summer. Another was her Invisible/_Notice-Me-Not_/Animagus ring. Actually, she needed to make four of those, one for her and one for each of her friends. Maybe even a few extras.

She spent the rest of the trip to King's Cross Station planning her summer, except for a brief interruption when Parkinson, Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe tried to force their way into the compartment. Finding four wands in their faces before the door was completely opened forestalled anything other than harmless name-calling. Just as she was about to slam the door closed, she stopped, "Oh, Malfoy? My French isn't that great, but doesn't your last name translate to 'wrong hole'?"

All four Slytherins' jaws dropped open, then Harri slammed the door closed and hit it with a quick _arceo_ to lock it — _alohomora_ wouldn't unlock that spell.

Her friends burst into laughter once it sunk in what she'd said.

At the Station she met Neville's Gran, Hermione's parents, and the overwhelming tribe that were the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley's crushing hug was unexpected, but kinda nice, Harri thought. She didn't try to introduce anyone to her Uncle who was standing a short distance away, glowering, instead she just waved goodbye to her friends before heading over to the man, Consequences firmly in mind.

To her surprise, he said, "Have a pleasant trip did you?" He almost looked as if he had started to smile.

"Uh, yes," she stared at him wide-eyed. A civil question not in an accusatory tone?

"Where're your things, dear?" He raised his right eyebrow.

_Dear_? _DEAR_? Had the man gone daft? Last summer he would have been red-faced in rage, grabbed her arm, and hauled her to the car, her trunk and other things be-damned!

"Uh, here," she tapped her hand on her shoulder bag. "Trunk and everything, shrunken to fit."

He glanced at her shoulder bag. "Convenient," he said in a neutral tone. "Well, this way. Dinner's waiting."

She followed the big man, her mind racing in circles. Had Professor Snape replaced her Uncle with someone else? Or had his "talk" with the Dursleys actually accomplished something. Her heart began to rise — maybe things with her relatives really would improve, as Professor Snape had promised.

"Oh we've done some things to your room, I hope you like them," he added, without the slightest trace of sarcasm in his voice.

Maybe, maybe she didn't _need_ Consequences right now. For the first time ever, Harri followed her Uncle to the car, smiling.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Author's Note:_ I've had a few complaints about Harry docilely returning to the Dursleys while she has money and houses of her own and otherwise not acting like an adult. First, she's only eleven and knows adults make the rules. Second, she's been conditioned to do what adults tell her to do. While she might occasionally ignore adults, she only does so in cases where she thinks she has a decent chance of escaping punishment or deems the punishment worth the cost. It's not until a child reaches the mid-teens that they begin to test what their adults will let them do, and begin to truly act independently. Third, there are things happening which will be revealed later._


	14. Second Year – Summer in the City

_**Author's Note:**__Some short scenes from "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" by J.K. Rowling, are excerpted in this story. They are used here with her and her publisher's kind forbearance. The characters, scenes, and locations belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing of the story except perhaps its deviations from J.K. Rowling's plot._

_Note: 7/1/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**14\. Second Year – Summer in the City**

Solicitor Andromeda Tonks stepped from behind her desk and curtsied as her receptionist ushered Lord Sirius Black into her office. "Lord Black, welcome to my humble office." He bowed to her in turn.

"Please be seated," she continued, sweeping her hand towards the Victorian settee, armchair, and table to one side of her office. As she waited for him to sit, she studied him carefully. He had changed, but how could he not after spending the last ten years in the wizarding prison Azkaban? Even after ten months in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, he still hadn't recovered his weight. The lines on his face, while subtle, were stark reminders of his experience. The slightly haunted look in his eyes betrayed the depths of the horrors he had survived. He was no longer the bright-eyed, smooth-skinned, brash young man he had been ten years ago.

Even so, the robes make the wizard, as the old saw goes, and his robes screamed _I have money!_ Expensive gold and silver threads made up his House shield and the robes themselves were of the finest Acromantula silk, shining and shimmering as he moved, accentuating his graceful movements. His shoes alone probably cost more than what she made in a year. His bearing betrayed nothing, showing instead the refined manners of only the best well-bred Pure-bloods. If one didn't know the truth, one would see only a rich, well-to-do, Ancient and Noble Family wizard recovering from a severe illness.

"Would you like tea and crumpets?" she asked, seating herself on the armchair, as he had taken the settee. At his smiling, "Yes, Please," she motioned to her receptionist waiting at the door.

She had a decision to make, ignore the sleeping dragon in the room, or firmly kick it in the arse and see what happened. Well, she had never been called a shrinking violet. And he was her cousin.

"I won't ask how you've been, I just hope your recovery has been smooth. I was never your enemy, Lord Black, and Cissy informed me that the irony that you, of all people, were in Azkaban for the Potters' murder brought great amusement to all her husband's friends and colleagues. They knew you had nothing to do with anything that happened that day or the next. Any efforts I made to inquire on your behalf at the Ministry were rebuffed on the grounds that being disowned meant I had no legal standing."

He gave her a sharp look, perhaps surprised at her forthright statement, but the receptionist returning with the tea tray forestalled any comments he might have made.

"Shall I be mother?" Andromeda said as she poured first one cup then the other. She picked up a sugar cube with the tongs and looked at him. A ghost of a smile flitted across his face and he held up two fingers. She picked up a third cube, "Are you sure you won't go for one more?" She knew from a decade ago that he usually took only two sugars, but sugar was not a commodity offered to the inmates at Azkaban.

He blinked, then slowly nodded.

She dropped the third cube in his cup. "Cream?" He didn't used to, but again, cream was something he hadn't tasted in a long time.

He shook his head. She prepared her cup the same — it was too sweet for her taste but that wasn't really a consideration. She set both cups in the exact middle of the coffee table between them. Not precisely subtle, but a clear declaration that he had nothing to fear from her. She had no way of knowing which he would take, meaning that if she poisoned one cup she took the chance of taking poison herself. There were, of course, slow-acting poisons that would allow her to poison them both and leave her time to take an antidote after he left, but that sort of tactic was only for deadly enemies too dangerous to let the opportunity escape. She hoped he knew he did not fall even close to that category.

Smiling, he said, "Andy, you really don't need to go that far. You were the only one in the family I did trust." He leaned forward and took the cup on his left. He was right-handed, as she was. Good, he hadn't forgotten the old habits.

"After the hell you've been through, and the reasons for it, I imagine trust is not something you ever will have in abundance," she said dryly.

They sat sipping tea for a moment. She cut a crumpet in half, offering both pieces to her cousin, taking the one he left and eating it first.

"What brings you here, Lord Black?"

"Sirius, Andy, Sirius. You say Lord Black and I start looking over my shoulder and preparing to kill the old bastard."

She nodded, adding a slow smile. "Sirius, then. How can I help you?"

"My godson. Where is he?"

She took a sip of tea and leaned back in her chair. This was a veritable obstacle course between the professional oaths she had made to the Headmaster and Harri.

She sighed. "I'm sorry, I can't say, Harri Potter is my client, after all. I can tell you Harri Potter is alive and well. I can tell you Harri Potter attended Hogwarts this last year. I cannot reveal Harri's friends or enemies by name. I cannot tell you where Harri Potter lives, or where Harri might be this summer, as I do not know.

"If you want that information, you have to go the Headmaster at Hogwarts, he _might_ be able to reveal it, but I doubt he will."

She could see that Sirius was finding it difficult to hold on to his temper.

"That _bastard_ refused me already. He said it was the best for all concerned that I have no contact with Harry. My _godson_!" He paused and took a calming breath. "I threatened him with legal action — I _am_ the boy's godfather — and he said to go ahead. That the Wizengamot would hardly consent to releasing the famous Harry Potter to a felon, even one who has been exonerated — 'we all know how unstable returnees from Azkaban are' he had the audacity to say!"

She had no response to that, they both knew Dumbledore was correct, especially if he threw the political weight he had left into the battle. Dumbledore could only come out of the situation stronger. Lord Black could lose more than just his godson if he failed to win that legal fight against the Light Lord, said to be the most powerful wizard of the century. It would be better to save his battles for things he _knew_ he could win.

Before she could mouth the polite and meaningless condolences on his situation, he stood and started pacing.

"If only I _hadn't_ given Harry to Hagrid that night, _dammit_!" He scowled fiercely, "I should have taken the boy to safety! Instead I handed him off — _my godson_ — I handed him off and go on a wild goose chase that ends with me in Azkaban for ten years! And Merlin only knows what's happened to Harry in the meantime!"

Andromeda leaned forward intently, "Tell me what happened that night, if you can remember." She only knew the vague rumours and wild speculation in the press.

He looked back at her, pausing in his pacing, and gave a laugh that sounded suspiciously more like a bark. "Oh, yes, I remember. Thanks to the Dementors I've done nothing else for the last ten years!" He turned and sat on the settee's front edge. He studied his hands for a moment, his left foot jiggling.

"I was on an assignment in France. We. . . , I was looking for something for Dumbledore when I felt the Godric's Hollow protective enchantments shudder." He looked up at her. "The house was under a _fidelius_ charm. Do you know what that is?"

She nodded, "Yes, it was described in _The Daily Prophet_ the next day."

"I was supposed to be the Secret Keeper. Dumbledore was the caster. James, Lily, and Harry were all inside the house." He paused and took a sip of tea.

"But I — in a brilliant stroke of genius —" he spat the last out as if it burned his tongue. "But I convinced James and Lily to make Peter, our best friend — that mother-fucking lying piece of shite — the Secret Keeper instead. I was in Hogsmeade with others when they did the deed." He paused for another sip. "It was weird. Even though I knew it was coming and when, one moment I knew where they were and the next I couldn't figure it out. I knew where Godric's Hollow was, I knew they were at a house there, but I had no idea where they were. I felt a twinge, a jerk if you will," he looked up at her, frowning. "For a brief instant I could feel that Harry was okay, but it was muddled. Then it faded and I felt nothing." He looked away. "That lasted about a year."

He sighed heavily, stood, and started pacing again. She watched him quietly.

"That Halloween night I felt the enchantments crash. Something had happened. At the same time, I could feel Harry and he was scared. I started apparating to Britain immediately as fast as I could — it was way too far to do it in one go," he explained. "Too far to do it in several aparations. And I had to rest after the third time. And Customs held me up. The only thing that kept me from blasting my way in was I could feel Harry. He was scared, but not terrified as he would be if someone were hurting him.

"I knew where Godric's Hollow was, I had been there before the _fidelius_ charm was placed, but I wasn't sure what I would find when I got there. So, I apparated to my London flat, hopped on my motorbike, and apparated as close as I could to the house. It didn't take me that long to get there after that.

"Hagrid was already there with Harry, and a few moments later Dumbledore arrived." He paused and slammed his fist into the other hand. "I should've _stayed_! My _godson_ was more important than anything else. Why didn't I stay? I just left my motorbike with Hagrid and started off after Peter." He collapsed back onto the settee, "What an arse, I threw everything away to chase a rat bastard." He buried his face in his hands.

Andromeda cleared her throat. Several things bothered her about the story. "Whose idea was it for you to chase Peter?"

He looked up at her, face still stricken with the realization, again, at what he had lost. "Peter?"

"Didn't Hagrid suggest you go with him and Harri? Didn't Dumbledore tell you to wait for the Auror's? You were a part of the Order of the Phoenix, weren't you?"

"No, Dumbledore said nothing, just that Harry was safe and not to worry, that everything would be taken care of. Then he asked me to whom I had told the secret." He blinked rapidly several times. "I told him I wasn't the Secret Keeper, that it was Peter Pettigrew. All he said then was, 'Ah, I see.' And a moment later, he said 'Perhaps we should speak with him.' That was when I took off after Peter. But why? I should have stayed with Harry. I _wanted_ to stay with Harry. It was as if I couldn't stay. I _had_ to find Peter, to find out '_why?_'

"Shite." He stared at her, but he wasn't looking at her, he was seeing another image in his mind.

"That rat bastard," he said in a tone of wonder. "That House-elf shagging poof, that buggering knobby of a puff." His eyes cleared and he stared at her. "_He fucking set me up_!" The outraged wizard stood. "He fucking set me up!" he yelled. "He didn't _imperio_ me, but he certainly used some version of it to send me after Peter."

"_And he knew I was _innocent. He left me in _Azkaban_ for _ten. . ._ _fucking. . . years_!"

He stared down at the witch. "He could have asked for an official interview and they would have set me free the next day, yet he did nothing and left me there to die. That fucking poof! _I'm gonna kill him._ I'm fucking going to kill him!" His fists were clenched as tightly as his jaw.

It was a very good thing that her offices were permanently under a _muffliato_ charm or that last outburst would have gotten Lord Black into a lot of trouble, the solicitor knew.

"Excuse me, Sirius, but surely you are mistaken," she began.

He turned and looked at her incredulously.

"Everyone _knows_ that Albus Dumbledore is a Light Lord. He would _never_ do anything like you have described. He would _never_ deliberately leave one of his Order of Phoenix members in Azkaban if he knew that wizard or witch was innocent. He couldn't even _think_ of doing such a thing, it would be a betrayal of his position as a Lord of Light, not to mention a betrayal of his obligations to someone working in his organization. Only a Dark or Grey wizard would do that.

"And to _suggest_ that _he_ would stoop to something as Dark as an _imperio_-like curse? People would laugh in your face at that. Even if you tried to say he only influenced you with mind magic, they would laugh. Why should the Great Dumbledore sink to such a level? You are allowing your bitterness at your unfair incarceration to cloud your judgment. I'm sure he merely suggested that Peter needed questioning and you took it upon yourself to chase after that wizard, the urge for revenge overriding your other inclinations. And, like everyone else, he truly thought you were confessing to the crime when the Aurors finally caught up with you in London."

She stopped and stared at him levelly. Her legal oath to Dumbledore meant she couldn't reveal the old Wizard's secrets to an outsider, even for actions he might have taken a decade ago. If she wanted to keep her magic, she would spout the old wizard's lies as if she believed them implicitly. And, in doing so, pointed out how the public would regard any accusations Sirius might be tempted to make. He didn't have a chance, and now they both knew it.

She had managed, though, to lead him through the obstacle course to the truth they both knew. She had suspected the old coot had pulled a fast one ten years ago when Peter suddenly surfaced last September, but didn't have the details. Now she did. And, soon, Harri would, too. That pensieve of hers was going to get some more use.

They stared at each other until he once more settled back onto the settee, more like an old man than the young wizard she knew he was.

She re-filled their cups and offered her cousin another half-biscuit. After a few minutes of silence, she said, "There is something that has always puzzled me, Sirius." She waited for him to look up from contemplating his teacup. "Supposedly, no one was at Godric's Hollow when You-Know-Who was there, yet everyone knows that he killed James, then went upstairs and argued with Lily, before killing her when she refused to step away from her son. Everyone knows he cast the Killing Curse, an Unforgiveable, at baby Harri. And then he died while Harri lived and left Harri with a lightning-shaped scar on the forehead.

"And the protective enchantments came down at the same time. And someone, probably Dumbledore, arrived, found baby Harri, and took the baby away to a safe location. No one has seen Harri since.

"What puzzles me is how does anyone know what was said before Lily died? Why is it that every image of Harri shows him as having that lightning-shaped scar when no one has seen him for a decade? In fact, how does anyone even know what Harri looks like? What if Harri takes after Lily instead of James?"

Sirius stared at her, frowning.

"According to what I've read," she continued, "the _fidelius_ charm fails only when the Secret Holder dies, the caster dies, or the secret being protected becomes public knowledge."

"Peter was still alive when I saw him the next day. And Dumbledore was never in any danger. And only four people, at most, knew the Potter's were there. The enchantments should still have been up," said Sirius.

"Can the caster of the _fidelius_ charm undo it?"

"Only if the Secret Keeper told him the secret, otherwise he would have forgotten who the Secret Keeper was as soon as they parted company, just like everyone else forgets what the _fidelius_ charm protects."

"But _you_ knew he was the Secret Keeper, didn't you? You suggested him."

"No, not until the enchantments came down did I remember anything about the _fidelius_ charm. Or who the Secret Keeper was."

"What would have happened if Dumbledore asked you if you were a Secret Keeper?"

"I'd have told him no."

"I mean, if you _were_ the Secret Keeper and he asked."

Lord Black sat back on the settee and considered. "The Secret Keeper," he said thoughtfully, "can disclose the secret to whomever he chooses, when he chooses." He looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "If Dumbledore, at that time, had asked me, I'm sorry to say I would have told him."

"Would Peter?"

"Absolutely. Peter could not lie to a Professor or the Headmaster to save his soul."

"So, if Dumbledore were to make a note to himself before the charm was cast to ask you if you were a Secret Keeper, without him knowing what the secret was, just that you knew a secret, and you said no, would he think to ask Peter?"

The wizard sighed dejectedly, "Without a doubt."

"So, hypothetically, Dumbledore could have known about the secret."

"Yes."

"And the only way the enchantments can come down is if the Secret Keeper dies, the caster dies, the caster dismantles the charm, or the secret becomes publicly known somehow." She paused. "But Dumbledore _couldn't_ have dismantled the charm even if he knew the secret — the enchantments were down when you and Hagrid got there, which was _before_ Dumbledore arrived.

"And it can't be that James or Lily were the _fidelius_ caster. While that would bring down the enchantments it doesn't explain how we all know what happened that night. James downstairs indicates he was killed first, Lily by the crib shows she died there, but what happened after that shouldn't be known! How do we know the Killing Curse was cast? There was no wand to test. How do we know the Curse caused that lightning bolt scar? No one was there to see it and tell us. For all we know You-Know-Who could have cast a curse to make the scar and then left!

"But someone must have seen what happened, someone saw the curse cast, someone saw it reflect back and kill the dark wizard, someone saw the scar that created, someone witnessed what happened and lived to tell us all about it.

"From your description, it sounds as if Hagrid and Dumbledore saw the scar, so either of them talking could explain the presence of the scar, but _not_ how it happened.

"And the Leader of the Light would _never_ remove the charm and then stand around doing _nothing_ for two hours instead of taking care of a possibly seriously injured baby."

She sighed. "I guess we'll never know the answer to that question. The only person there can't possibly remember what happened that night. And that doesn't even begin to explain how anyone knows Lily sacrificed herself for her baby instead of simply being killed when You-Know-Who arrived."

She smiled wryly, "After all, it is simply unbelievable that the Leader of the Light, the most powerful Light wizard in a century, would stand by and watch idly as the most evil wizard in a century slaughtered the Potter family. Stood there doing _nothing_ as You-Know-Who cast the killing curse at a toddler. Simply out of the question."

Lord Black was staring at her in horror.

"I see that you, too, find that thought totally unbelievable," she added.

Sirius blinked several times, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Yes," he agreed speaking slowly and carefully, "we'll never know the truth." He wasn't looking her in the eyes. They sat in silence for a while, each lost in thought.

Neither brought up the subject of how the entire wizarding world knew what Harry looked like. While they might base his appearance on his father, perhaps taken from a picture when he was the same age, how did they know the child wore glasses and had such vivid green eyes? Eye colour changes as babies become adolescents — some babies eyes' get darker, others lighter. And how had anyone known about the scar? Well, the scar might be explained by Hagrid's inability to keep a secret, but he had kept the secret of where Harry had gone pretty well for ten years. Unless he had been _obliviated_! Someone had deliberately spread Harry's description to the public, someone who had kept an active eye on the boy.

Everyone "knew" the child was with a wizard family, brought up with magic as his birthright, but the family would never talk as that would reveal them to the child's enemies. Nor would they let images proliferate, making it easier for strangers to recognize the child — strangers who might want to harm the child. And yet, _everyone_ knew. What was the _truth_ that nobody but Harri and Dumbledore knew?

They had finished their third cup of tea and the crumpets were gone when Lord Black shook his head, as if clearing it. He took a deep breath, let it out, and said, "Well, that wasn't the only reason I am here today, cousin."

Andromeda looked at him quizzically as a smile slowly spread across his face. He reached inside his robes and pulled out a rolled parchment. He handed it to her and sat back, now grinning.

The wax seal on the parchment was the official Head of Black House. She looked up at him, then slowly broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. She read it, frowned, re-read it, and then looked back up at her cousin. Her lip trembled slightly, her eyes glistening.

He nodded, still grinning. "Yes, Andromeda, I officially and magically rescinded your father's disownment, it's all filed with the Ministry, too. You're back in the family — all three of you."

She looked down at her cup on the table, which was wavering as if under water. She had difficulty speaking for several minutes, before finally whispering, "Thank you, Sirius. This means so much to me."

He stood, "Come, let's go to lunch and you can tell me all about your family and what's happened to you since I last saw you in 1970."

She wiped at her eyes and joined him by the door. "That sounds splendid." Her voice trembled as she tried to suppress her emotions and sound professional. She sighed, "Too bad Ted is out with a client, I'd really like you to meet him."

Lord Black smiled at her. "Well, that just means we need to make a dinner date soon so I can meet the entire family!"

He paused with his hand on the door. "By the way," he looked at her from the corners of his eyes, "Was there a reason why you never had any others besides Nymphadora?"

That was old news for Mrs. Tonks, but it still hurt a little. "For some reason we just never had another. We never really tried, but we never really tried not to."

"Hmm," was his response, but he didn't open the door quite yet and he still didn't look directly at her. "I noticed an additional spell on the original disownment spell papers stripping you and yours of House Black magical recognition and protection. Nasty piece of work, something to do with children was all I could discern." He gave her a quick glance. "It's gone now that I rescinded the disownment." He paused for a long moment, looking at the door handle in his hand as she gaped at him. "Don't know if it matters, just thought you should know." He opened the door and walked out into the receptionist area. She stood thinking a moment before slowly following him.

"Peggy," Andromeda said to her receptionist. "I'm going to be at lunch with Lord Black and then I'll be going home for the afternoon. When Ted gets back, tell him I expect him to be home by three o'clock today. If he isn't, I'll be hunting him down and he won't like the results." Peggy paled slightly. The Tonks did not fight, but when they did it was best to walk as carefully as if one were on egg-shells. Ted would be home at three or Peggy would be in trouble, too.

Andromeda had an absolutely delightful luncheon with her cousin. They didn't eat much and she almost talked herself hoarse. The dinner date was set for the day after tomorrow. Once back at her office she took only enough time to carefully pull out her memories of the office discussions with Sirius, duplicated them, and put the duplicates in an unbreakable bottle that she quickly posted to Harri with a brief explanatory note. Then she went home to prepare for Ted's arrival.

It was five o'clock when Ted said, "Well, not that I'm complaining, but what was that all about?" He was on the floor partway through the bedroom door and staring at the bedroom ceiling.

His lovely witch had met him at the floo with a wand in hand, her witches' hat on her head, and nothing else. She'd flicked her wand and not only banished the floo black from him, but his clothes as well. Things had moved rapidly from that point on. He had managed to convince her to move from the floor in front of the floo to the bedroom after the first tryst. He had only had to point out that the floor, which was quite comfortable with several cushioning charms, was in rather plain view should anyone decide to floo them a message. But they had taken a few of detours on the way to the bedroom.

First, was a snack in the kitchen because someone was thirsty. That led to raiding the cold box for a bite for him that ended up with him having to clean the spilt strawberry syrup off her chest — with his tongue. And _that_ ended with them partway into the dry pantry, and most of the pantry in the kitchen, which would need to be cleaned tomorrow.

How they managed to get to the top of the staircase without once standing up still left him puzzled. Her comment that the thirteenth step was the highest of the seventeen for her and that she would remember it forever left him wondering if she had gone completely mental. But he hadn't been thinking too clearly himself, at that point.

Next, the bathroom because someone had to pee and then they had ended up in the tub. He had never appreciated how comfortable a tub was with a cushioning charm or three.

Finally, they had made it to the bed. Well, almost to the bed. Uh, at least it was in the bedroom. Okay, they were in the doorway to the bedroom. Merlin only knew what their daughter Nymphadora would think if she happened to come home right now.

And so, now, he asked the question. Before, he had been too preoccupied. Or rather she had been too busy snogging him to answer. It's difficult to ask a question when someone has their tongue most of the way down your throat. Or for _them_ to answer when you have _your_ tongue down _their_ throat.

Andy told him the news about Lord Black accepting them back into the Family. He thought that was nice, but it was really more of something for his wife and daughter, in his opinion. He really didn't care. He didn't think that it was something so important as to require this kind of celebration, though. Then she told him about the 'extra' spell that her father had added to the disownment spell.

"I take it, then," he said, "that you're interested in rectifying our lack of a son or daughter for Dora to spoil?"

"Hmm, whatever gave you that idea?"

He looked down to his poor limp appendage that she currently cupped in one hand. "I don't think you've killed it, but it's at least stunned into next week."

She gave a deep throaty laugh, released him, and reached up to the side-table just inside the bedroom doorway, making sure to drag her hanging and ample breasts across his face. She pulled down a wand and wiggled her chest back and forth a couple of times across his face before leaning away. It always took a moment for his eyes to uncross when she did that. She pointed the wand at his waist and mumbled something. Then grinned at his reaction as his third leg abruptly stood straight up. "It's an old Black spell my mother taught me for when they married me off to some old codger who couldn't get it up for an heir without help." She kissed him, and left him gasping. "Not that you're an old codger, but this should last for a couple of hours." She slid on top of him.

Merlin! Dora had better be having a late night at work tonight or she'd be embarrassed as hell when she got home!

Ted hoped he'd remember to floo the office tomorrow to cancel all their appointments due to a family emergency. If he was conscious, that is.

"Bed," he managed to croak crawling into the bedroom and closing the door. He couldn't remember where his wand was, so Dora was just going to have to cast her own _silencio_ on the room if she did come home tonight.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Lord Black leaned against the brick wall of the store across the street from King's Cross Station. He looked very much as if he were a Muggle killing time waiting for an assignation. His luncheon with his cousin had ended well before the Hogwarts Express was to arrive at the station at 5:05 PM. He had spent the first hour exploring the station, which remained almost the same as when he had last seen it. He had avoided Platform Nine-and-three-quarters. Standing around there for several hours would surely attract the attention of the Aurors. The second hour he had lounged in a nearby café, nursing a cup of coffee and playing the Muggle waiting for a train.

At the expected time, he pushed away from the wall, casually crossed the street, and entered the station. He had just reached Platform Seven when a man who looked like he could play a Muggle pirate if he just changed his clothes slightly came from behind a stanchion and grabbed Lord Black's elbow. It was a firm grip and only Sirius' training as an Auror let him notice the wand tip hidden in the palm of that hand. They stood there glaring at each other.

"Why Moody, what brings you here? Are you catching the 5:23 to Peterborough, too?"

The Auror stared at him, "Taking a train?" he asked incredulously, "Are you mad?"

Smiling thinly, the wizard said, "It's a lovely way to meet birds, my friend. If you look half-way decent and mind your manners you can have a dinner date before the ride is half over." He paused, the smile never reaching his eyes. "And the right dinner conversation can lead to overnight company."

"Bah!" the older Auror exclaimed, "I'm not havin' it. You're here for the Hogwarts Express." He continued to glare at Sirius. "Dumbledore left explicit orders that you were not to be here. You won't find the boy this way. He's under a glamour and could walk right by yeh and yeh wouldn't see him." He paused, then continued in a conciliatory tone, "Look, I know you want to see the boy, but I can tell you I myself haven't seen him and I was here in September when he boarded the train."

Sirius yanked his arm from the Auror's grip and faced him. "How do you know he was on the train then? How do you know he was at the school? If nobody sees him, how do we know he's alive?" he demanded.

The Auror looked around them, "Come with me," he said, motioning down the platform. "The café." He gave Sirius an amused look, "You can catch the 5:50 to Peterborough if you must. Besides, you wouldn't want to be found anywhere near the boy with that port-key," Mad-eye's mad eye stopped its frantic spinning and twirling to stare at a certain pocket in the other wizard's robes. "Someone might accuse you of trying to kidnap the boy."

Scowling, Sirius followed the Auror. Here in the station, in public, "Mad-Eye" Moody looked merely slightly disabled, nothing like the one-eyed, one-legged veteran Auror he really was with scars crisscrossing his face and body and his "mad" eye flipping and scanning continuously.

Seated, the old Auror leaned close. "I can see that port-key plain as day, so there's no chance you're gonna get close to the boy no matter what." He leaned back as Sirius stared at him expressionlessly.

"Things changed last Fall when the last batch of Hogwarts' letters went out. Nobody saw the boy, but suddenly Truckle's Trunks had a new line of trunks he claimed the boy himself inspired! Tonks and Tonks lawyers suddenly popped up claiming they were his official lawyers and went after all sorts of people for trademark violations. They used the Old Family Protection laws to do it. Swore in the Wizengamot, on their magic, that they had met the one and only Boy-Who-Lived, Harry James Potter, and that they now represented him. They said that if the boy's Magical Guardian — and nobody knows for sure who that is — disagreed, they invited him to stand up in the Wizengamot and disavow them. Otherwise, they were the only ones with the legal authority to represent the boy."

Lord Black's lack of response illustrated he knew this already.

"Pissed off the Old Man something fierce. You should've heard him carrying on. He said it was far more important that no one knew where the boy was nor who was his Guardian than it was to publically reprimand the lawyers and reveal things better kept quiet." Mad-Eye leaned close again. "The kicker is that the Old Man was the one who recommended Tonks to the boy! Seems Hagrid came to him with some story that the boy wanted a lawyer 'cause he wanted to flog some stuff to make pocket money. Dumbledore figured Tonks would laugh at 'im and toss 'im out on his ear. Instead, Tonks took 'im at his word and last I heard Potter's selling posh trunks and quills with his name on 'im and jolly-well making galleons hand over fist! And the scuttle-butt is that they're gonna announce a new line of brooms this summer with his name on 'em." The old Auror nodded approvingly. "Kid's got a good brain on 'im. I talked with Ollivander, the kid bought his wand and a professional Auror-level wrist holster for it, right off. Cushioning, disillusionment, the works. Nobody's gonna catch that kid wizard without his wand at hand!"

Sirius's eyebrows had steadily been climbing. He knew about the quills and trunks, who wouldn't with the ads and stories in _The Daily Prophet?_ He had figured it was something Dumbledore was managing, especially given the stonewalling he got from his cousin about Harry. But that wouldn't explain his cousin's clear dislike for her "client" if it was Dumbledore, though.

"Are you saying that Harry pranked Dumbledore with the lawyer?" he asked incredulously.

"Well it certainly ain't going the way the Old Man wants, that's for sure!" The Auror leaned back in his chair. "And did you read the way they sorted Harry's Owl Mail? Burned the Old Man good with that. The goblins wanted blood." Moody shook his head, "Don't rightly know what he was thinking when he did that. Probably thought it a smashing idea at the time and by the time everything settled down, he'd forgotten about it entirely. Cost him though. Still has plenty of pull, though. He'll have that Chief Warlock back soon enough."

He leaned forward, one hand on the tabletop, "So, yeh see, Sirius, the boy is there, he's alive and well and kicking up a fuss. And here's something else you don't know. We know the identities of every boy involved, but Dumbledore thinks he was involved in catching Peter on the Hogwarts Express last year."

That caught Sirius' attention. He hadn't heard that. "The paper said that there were two Weasley children and one Longbottom in the compartment, and two girls, both Muggle-born."

"Yep, and yet I heard the Old Man pissin' and moanin' that if it weren't fer Harry Peter would still be a hiding rat." The old Auror sat straight, frowning. "Why he should be complainin' about that, I don't know, but there yer go."

They stared at each other, thinking. Sirius carefully schooled his expression to hide his rage at hearing that Dumbledore, the wizard he had followed loyally without question for years had wanted Sirius to remain in that hell-hole called Azkaban for Dumbledore's convenience.

"Well," declared Moody, "I'd better escort yeh to that Peterborough train, you've got just about enough time to make it." And by now all the kids and parents would have cleared out of the station, meaning Sirius couldn't catch the boy.

"Oh, there's no need for you waste your time with that, Moody."

"But it would make the Old Man so happy if I could report watching you ride off into the distance on that Peterborough train."

And making it practically impossible for Sirius to back track to the station later to search for any signs of a magic trail to follow and find the boy.

"Yes, of course Moody. I'd be honored if you took some of your valuable time to walk me to my train."

The rest of their conversation as they headed for the appropriate platform dealt with trivialities in Auror training — Moody was of the opinion that the newest recruits couldn't magically fight a Muggle and win, even if she had both hands tied behind her back and was wearing a blindfold!

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Remus Lupin was not having a good day. In point of fact, he wasn't having a good week, good month, good year, or even a good decade. Not unless you redefine good as terrible, then he was having a good day.

Finding a job in England in the 1980's was difficult, with high unemployment throughout. If you weren't a solid, dependable, hard-working individual, you got the sack and it was on the dole. For a magical wizard, however, there was no such thing as the dole. If you didn't have a job, you didn't eat. Period.

Wizards and witches didn't have the proper paperwork for either medical or education, leaving them appearing as illegal immigrants unless they had the right connections or spent the galleons and did a bit of make-up work to get their papers.

Most wizards, though, could get a job. Being able to do magic on the sly would let them achieve more than their Muggle co-workers, assuring them of a steady job. And that was if they couldn't find a job in the wizarding world, which many could, and did.

Remus, while a wizard, had another problem. Remus was a werewolf. Once a month he shucked the mundane and normal (!) life of a wizard and turned into a wolf who wanted nothing more than to chase down and savagely tear anyone who wasn't a werewolf. It was how werewolves propagated. They bit "normal" Muggles, wizards, or witches and made them into werewolves, too. If they lived. Many times they didn't.

And that was why werewolves were feared by wizards and witches. As a result, the wizarding world has rules and laws regarding how werewolves should live.

All of those rules and laws could be summed up in one simple phrase: "I hope you die! And this afternoon wouldn't be too soon! Here's a kick to help you!"

So, the wizarding world was right out as a source of employment, except for certain illegal activities which almost always had ". . . and if you get caught they kill you. . . "as a part of the contract. That left the Muggle, non-magical world.

And in that world, demanding a _specific_ day off every 28 days leads to very short employments, especially in retail where at the holidays, _nobody_ gets a day off that isn't scheduled to the company's needs. Offering to work seven-days a week for three weeks in exchange for that important _specific_ day works only until that cursed day-off coincides with a must-work holiday. Then, out the door you go as "unreliable."

And this didn't even consider the problems of travel time to and from a "safe" place where he wouldn't harm anyone. That meant he had to have _two_ days off, one for travel time there and one back. Unless he could find a job in a very rural area where the travel time to a remote location was only an hour or so — but those jobs were as rare as hens teeth in the current economy. And the locals tended to notice things and ask uncomfortable questions.

Manufacturing? Ha! Don't even think of it. Manufacturing firms do not give specific days off every month. Every weekend, yes. Some firms worked four-day weeks, so every weekend was three days. But when the full moon hits Tuesday? You are so screwed.

Agriculture? Nope. When the animals are calving or the crop needs to be brought in, there are no days off, regardless of whether or not those nights fall on a full moon.

Circus? Yeah that'll work — not. They would love to have a werewolf act ("My god, but he's convincing, you'd think he was a real wolf!"), but they want it every weekend, not just one night a month!

It was too bad Remus had as much artistic talent as plant. As an artist, he could have easily worked around his "doggy day," with galleries selling his stuff and him appearing only periodically to get paid. Or selling from his lorry or the boot of his car. There's definitely an audience for dark works involving pain, wolves, and forests, not necessarily all at once or in that order.

And with his dark and haunted look giving him that frail, sensitive bad-boy appearance, any art he produced — literary, image, or sculpture — the critics would see as ". . . being rife with dark, brooding angst-ridden overtures displaying a unique insight into the dark recesses of the human soul." The critics would drive themselves into paroxysms of orgasmic ecstasy at the agonies he hid so well but that he inadvertently revealed in his art.

The biggest problem was he couldn't _tell_ anyone _why_ he _had to have_ that day off! And making things even tougher was that now that he was older, he needed a _minimum_ of _three_ days off — one for the night of the full-moon, one to recover so he could work the next day, and one for travel time.

The previous Monday, June 15th, had been a full moon. His current job in a grocery store that stayed open until 10PM was a problem as the full moon was at 6:49AM. That meant that as soon as sundown hit, he transformed. So, he spent Monday traveling north to the forests, spent the night chasing his tail, and headed home Tuesday morning, exhausted. He had arrived back "home" late in the afternoon and crashed in bed. When he walked into work on Wednesday morning, the boss handed him his walking papers. Another employee had been in an accident and they had called for him to come in. As the "on call" person he was supposed to be available. He wasn't, and so they didn't need him anymore.

Fortunately, he had managed to keep this job for almost a year. That had let him build up a nice nest-egg to tide him over for several weeks. He could make it last even longer if he left his apartment and moved back into his ramshackle car.

Finding a replacement job was getting tougher.

Depressed, he had decided to stop by the Leaky Cauldron. He sat at a corner table, watching wizards and witches coming and going, missing the wizarding world on a visceral level, but knowing intellectually that they would never accept him. Sitting there was almost a form of torture: here is what he wanted yet he could never really have. He picked up a discarded _Quibbler_ — it was always good for a laugh and if anyone outside the wizarding world saw it they would think it just a joke.

_Boy-Who-Lived Saves Us Again!_ screamed the startling headline. The tag line below declared _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named vanquished a second time at Hogwarts just after First Year Exams!_ A smaller headline near the bottom of the cover asked, _Is The-Boy-Who-Lived Really The-Girl-Who-Lived?_ A third headline stated _Hogwarts' Troll Infestation Finally Eliminated!_ It was all he could do not to burst out laughing.

By the time he finished reading the articles he was much less amused. He remembered some of the articles from when he attended Hogwarts. _The Quibblers_' speculation about the Shrieking Shack, a colony of werewolves in the Forbidden forest, a deer and a dog befriending a werewolf, and a student being a werewolf in hiding had been scarily close to the truth. The other details had been so outlandish, so clearly fanciful, that most people had discounted them as jokes. To the Marauders? Those articles hadn't been jokes — they had been warnings on how disparate overlooked details could reveal a truth.

He wondered how much of these articles were made up from whole cloth and how much was based on facts. He decided a visit to _The Daily Prophet_ and a pile of back-issues was in order, with a follow-up to _The Quibbler_'s editor, Lovegood.

On the other hand, Harry Potter had finally reached Hogwarts. He wondered how he could have forgotten that this year would be Harry's first. Perhaps the day wasn't so terrible after all. He did not look forward to living out of his car again.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Lucius Malfoy was having a good day. In fact, he had been having a good week, a good month, a good year, and if you discounted that truly nasty period in late 1981 to mid-1982 when he had to spend atrocious amounts of galleons to stay out of Azkaban, he could even be said to have had a good decade. The only problem he really had, and it had been a persistent problem for the last year, was one Arthur Weasley.

While a Pure-blood family, the Weasleys were not rich. They were downright poor, truthfully. However, they were a very old, very respected family and Arthur's counsel was oddly influential. And that meant that bastard kept getting in Lucius' way in the Wizengamot. The insufferable meddling fool kept opposing perfectly reasonable adjustments to laws that gave more rights to Pure-bloods while restricting the rights of lesser creatures, as the law should. And, not inconsequentially, preventing Malfoy from exercising his undisputed control of the Ministry. Getting Cornelius Fudge elected Minister had been tougher than it should have been, solely due to Weasley's interference.

Well, today's good news was that Lucius had devised a scheme that would take down that sanctimonious idiot's prestige while boosting his own. It meant he would have to suffer in that fool's presence for several minutes, he would actually have to _speak_ with the wizard, but then he could sit back and wait for his plot to bear fruit with no further actions on his part. By this time next summer Arthur Weasley's reputation would be in tatters and he would no longer be able to interfere in Malfoy's machinations.

His first thought was his son, Draco, but he quickly discarded that idea. Draco wasn't nearly as smart or clever as the child thought he was. Witness the way he had bolloxed things up at Hogwarts this last year! The first Malfoy ever suspended from school, and a Malfoy record set for the number of detentions! Subtlety was a concept Draco had never mastered, and it appeared never would. He could not trust the child to assist him in this endeavor, he would either brag about the plot or screw up its execution. Well, as they said, a secret is a secret until two people know it, then it's not a secret. Best to keep the number who knew of this to one!

"Dobby!" He would have to practice some sleight of hand with the book. He didn't want anyone to suspect his involvement. The House-elf was about the right size and could acquire the proper props, a few run-throughs and it would be perfect. His spies at the Ministry would tell him when the Weasley family planned to go to Diagon Alley for their school shopping.

As for Draco, perhaps he should talk with his wife regarding trying for an heir who could see farther than the end of his own nose.


	15. Dazed

_Note: 7/1/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**15\. Dazed**

Harriet Potter stood in the doorway to her bedroom, staring. When she had left for Hogwarts at the end of last summer, the doorframe had had several locks on it and the door itself had had holes kicked in it as well as a small cat-flap at the bottom for passing through food. Now, there were no locks on the doorframe, no cat-flap in the door, and in fact it looked like both the door and the frame had been completely replaced.

The bedroom floor, previously bare wood, was now a thick, lush, beige carpet that looked comfortable enough to sleep on. And speaking of sleeping, her former broken-down old bed with permanently food-stained mattress and matching food stained sheet, all of which used to belong to Dudley, had been replaced with a large canopied bed. A bed complete with frills, a full set of sheets, pillows and pillow covers, a bed skirt, and a thick blanket — all in shades of light blue to color co-ordinate with the mildly violet-painted walls. Her broken chest of ill-fitting drawers, most missing their handles, was gone, replaced by a makeup table, chair, and drawer ensemble placed between the window and the outside wall corner. And the windows had honest-to-god curtains that could be opened and closed. The previously door-less closet, filled and blocked by a huge mound of broken toys and appliances for Dudley, was not only accessible, but had a full-length mirror on the inside of the door. And the closet itself appeared full of clothes. And no broken toys were anywhere in sight. When she closed the closet door, there was another mirror on the door's outside so she could check herself no matter if the door was open or not.

Perhaps most astonishing was the telly on a short table beside the closet door, positioned for easy watching while in bed. And beside it was a telephone!

Had she somehow fallen into a different universe?

"Harri?" came Aunt Petunia's voice from downstairs. "Dinner will be ready in a minute. Wash-up and come on down."

Harri turned and stared down the short hallway to the stairs. Perhaps she _had_ fallen into a different universe!

She had changed into normal clothes, on the train, so it took only a few moments to hit the bathroom before heading downstairs.

The kitchen was another shock. Four place settings were out and one was clearly hers. The Dursleys were seated and _waiting_ for her. Slowly, cautiously, she seated herself. As soon as she sat, the others began serving themselves from the dishes. "Go ahead, Harri, help yourself. Don't wait for us," said Aunt Petunia. It was positively surreal the way everyone was acting. It was almost like one of those family shows on the telly in the sitting room she had listened to while she hid in her room upstairs.

She filled her plate and started eating, surreptitiously studying her relatives. Uncle Vernon, while still as big as a walrus, looked as if he had lost at least a stone, Dudley, too, looked a bit slimmer. Aunt Petunia looked the same, but somehow looked a bit happier — at least she seemed to have a continual half-smile.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Dudley, bless his heart, just stuffed his face with food, ignoring Harri as he had rarely done before — no leers, no groping, and no snide or derogatory comments. Remarkably, though, his table manners were better than Ron's, now that she had someone to compare them to. Ron truly did eat like a starving pig, while Dudley merely ate like someone who was hungry. He used the proper utensils and didn't make a mess of any kind. She and Hermione were going to have to work on Ron.

What added to the surrealism was that all through dinner both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept touching each other. She'd put her hand on his arm after saying something, he would reciprocate a moment later. She would giggle. After seeing some of the older girl's with their boyfriends at Hogwarts, Harri realized her aunt was _simpering_! She was acting like one of those girls trying to entice and keep her boyfriend. And Uncle Vernon was responding accordingly with thinly veiled innuendos related to sex.

Based on the expressions she saw flit across Dudley's face, he was horrified at seeing his parents do those things. He resolutely took an intense interest in what was on his plate, shuddering occasionally at something his mother or father said to the other.

Aunt Petunia had just brought over the cake for dessert when she asked, "Have things finally settled at work, dearest?"

The fat man looked over at his wife, "Unfortunately, my dumpling, we're still dealing with aftermath of that last trial. And some bloody thieving opportunist has launched another lawsuit claiming Grunnings was responsible. More bloody money wasted on lawyers." He shook his head, his jowls shaking like jelly.

Harri frowned. "Um, what happened?"

Vernon's face reddened and he stood up abruptly as he glared at her, "You bloody well know what happened, girl! _You_ happened! _You_ did this!"

It was completely reflexive, Consequences had her out of her chair and huddled in the kitchen corner that had been behind her, arms over her head and her knees against her chest, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know! I didn't mean to say that! It was an accident, I swear! I'll never ask again, I promise!" She panted.

Aunt Petunia reached over, Harri saw through her fringe, and laid her hand on his arm, "Vernon, dear, remember what the doctor said — take a deep breath, hold it, let it out slowly with your anger." She paused as he looked at her. "Come on," she coaxed, "take a deep breath." She waited until he did, and then talked him through the rest of the mantra. At the end, his face was only slightly pinker than normal. She left her hand on his arm and stroked it gently. Slowly he sat back down.

Dudley looked back and forth between them, his face unusually impassive, chewing slowly.

The walrus of a man turned to look at Harri. "Right." He sneered at Harri, "As if you didn't already know, last November some popinjay went to Scotland Yard and confessed that he had sexually abused his young niece and claimed one of our salesmen did too." He paused. "When the Bobbies visited Thompson in sales, he broke down and admitted everything, and started naming most of upper management and the sales office as doing it as well. He even said that management regularly used our suite at the Travelers' Hotel as a rendezvous for them to abuse young girls." Vernon stared at her not saying anything for a minute. "It was all lies, but we all suffered for it. _You_ know we never had any other girls at the hotel." He glared at her, his slowly getting redder. "I'm sure those frea. . . friends of yours had something to do with it all, it beggars the mind that every one of those men readily confessed, not one claimed innocence.

"It almost destroyed the company — we lost over half the management at headquarters and all the sales team except for two new hires we made in September." The man looked down at his plate. "Sales dropped as clients left us, and quite a few of our clients' and vendors' agents ended up in trouble as well. A couple even went out of business. We had to lay off half the work force. We're barely staying afloat." His wife started to say something, "Dear. . . ."

"And then one of those frea. . . people," he interrupted, "came here and threatened us, actually threatened us! We are to treat you like a princess or else!" He was getting redder and redder. "I'd like to . . . ." He suddenly bent over double, hitting his face on the table. He didn't notice that, as his attention and hands seemed focused on his groin. He groaned in pain.

Aunt Petunia glared at Harri, still huddled in her corner, "This is your fault, if you'd kept your mouth shut none of this would have happened," she raged, "get out!" Then she grabbed her husband's arm and repeated the mantra, "Take a deep breath, Vernon, honey. . . ."

Harri wasted no time in fleeing from the kitchen to her room, leaning against her bedroom door while her heart pounded. That had certainly gone to hell fast, the façade not merely cracked but shattered. How she had managed to escape a beating and getting shagged on the kitchen floor by Uncle Vernon and Dudley was beyond her. Well, at least she had had a decent dinner here for once. She had escaped the consequences this time — on to other things.

She sat on her bed, thinking. She needed to visit her solicitor. It was time she explored some of her properties and learned more about what being Lord of Potter House meant. She retrieved her trunk from her pocket, enlarged it, opened it, pulled out parchments and quills, and started a list of things to do over the summer, using the top of the trunk as an easy table.

She had just started a letter to her solicitor requesting a meeting when there came a knock on her door. She turned, startled. Nobody in this house had ever knocked at her door. Pounded in fury, kicked, rattled viciously, threw open and stormed in? Yes, but knocked? Never.

"Come in," she called hesitantly. The door slowly opened and Dudley stepped in. He carefully pushed the door closed behind him with his foot. He had a plate with a piece of cake on it and a fork in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. He held them out to her as he stood there, shifting uncertainly from foot to foot.

Surprised that Dudley of all people was offering her food, she took the offered items and set them atop her open trunk. Dudley never offered food to anyone, not when he could take it and devour it himself. Look how he had swiped some of her birthday cake when Hagrid visited that night at that cabin in the sea.

"Harri? Um." He paused, embarrassed, "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

She stared at him, nonplussed, "Sorry?" she repeated back blankly.

"Um, yeah," He was staring at his shoes. "I've been flipping beastly to you for. . . for years." He stopped, took a breath, "A fre. . . one of your. . . people. . . came here last November and he was really cheesed off at the way we've treated you. He said a lot of things that mum and dad didn't like, and he did some things, too."

Harri stared at him impassively.

"At first, I was scared and upset, then I got mad. 'How dare he do that' I thought." He swallowed. "But after a few weeks, when I saw the headlines and stories, I realized he was right. What mum, dad, and I had done was wrong. Really wrong." He looked over towards her, but not at her, more over her shoulder. She almost turned to see what he was looking at. "Really, really, wrong," he added in a low tone. He stared at the floor.

"When dad started telling us the problems at work, the people going jail, and I read what other people were saying, I realized just how wrong those things were that we did. Doing those things to you was terrible, I hope you can forgive me someday.

"Anyway, I'm sorry." He turned and left her room, closing the door quietly behind him.

She blinked. He was sorry? She was a slut and he was sorry for using her like one? She frowned. The one who visited them must have been Professor Snape. He must have made quite an impression on them to make the Dursleys change this much.

How about that? He really had done something, just as he had promised her — he had kept his word to her. She wondered why, and what he had threatened them with doing.

She turned her attention to the cake. She had never tasted one of Aunt Petunia's cakes. She cut a small piece with the fork and cautiously ate it. Not bad. Actually, as she continued to eat, she discovered it was quite good.

A bit later, she opened her window and called Hedwig over. "Hey there, Hedwig. How'd you like to deliver some letters for me tonight?" A quick bark of acknowledgement told Harri her owl was more than happy to deliver things. Laughing to herself that she thought she understood what the owl had said, she gave the owl her letters, and sent her out. She didn't expect to see any responses before tomorrow night, considering it was already past nine at night and dark out. The letters would probably arrive in the morning.

It was only as she was in her bed starting to relax after telling her parents about her day that she heard sounds, noises that were vaguely discomforting and familiar. She listened closely to murmured voices, gasps, and a rhythmic creak-and-soft-thump.

She got up and moved to her door. The noises were louder. She opened the door cautiously, crouching low. The noises were louder still and came from down the short hall. Stealthily, she stepped into the hall and crept towards the stairs, the sounds becoming louder and clearer. They were coming from the Dursley's bedroom!

After a second, she realized what she was hearing — her aunt and uncle were having sex! Consequences leapt into place and she hurried back to her room before the visions of similar remembered activities involving her and them could overwhelm her. She spent the night sleeping in her trunk's bedroom with the door firmly closed and extra silencing charms in place. While she didn't have nightmares, her dreams were a bit disturbing. Fortunately, she didn't remember anything more about them other than that.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x – X

_Hi Nev,_

_I'm planning to explore the different properties and places that House Potter owns and I was wondering if you might want to come along? I really know nothing about this stuff and having a friend who could explain what's normal and what's not, as well as what some of the stuff there does, would be very helpful. I plan to ask Ron and Minie as well so if you can't make it, that's fine. I realize this is sorta informal, so I enclosed a more formal request for you to show your grandmother. That way, if you're interested in accompanying me you can show her it's an official request from a Lord and not just you looking for an excuse to skiv off your summer chores._

_Harri_

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x – X

_(on parchment bearing the House Potter crest)_

_Heir Neville Longbottom, of the House Longbottom,_

_I am planning to take my first inventory tour of the House Potter properties and would be honored if you would accompany me. As I grew up in a non-magical household I find myself at a loss as to what to expect, as well as what is normal or not in an estate. Your assistance would be quite helpful and very much appreciated. If you are interested in accompanying me, please respond before Friday._

_Lord Harry Potter_

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x – X

Morning came quickly for Harri and she was awake before the Dursleys started stirring. Old habits are hard to break, she was dressed and in the kitchen getting breakfast started when she heard Aunt Petunia's alarm clock go off. Her aunt said nothing as she came into the kitchen, she just started setting the table. Again, there was an actual place setting for Harri. The previous evening wasn't mentioned and Uncle Vernon was soon out the door. She noticed what she hadn't the previous night, being too occupied with the other changes in the house.

Dudley had circles under his eyes as if he weren't getting enough sleep, and he flinched every time he saw his mother stroke his father's arm. He had closed his eyes when they kissed just as Uncle Vernon was leaving the kitchen, and not just a peck on the cheek! He didn't see the way his mother pressed against his father and prolonged the kiss before they broke apart and TFS headed out.

Dudley (!) helped clear the table as she started cleaning the dirty dishes while Petunia headed back upstairs to get dressed for the day. Surprising her even more, Dudley said, "You wash, I'll dry." And he did!

When they finished, Dudley headed out the front door, calling, "I'm for Pier's, mum!" Harri stood in the kitchen for a few moments, just looking around. What had just happened? She had had a normal, decent breakfast with the Dudleys, as if she were a part of the family. No screaming, no yelling, no grabbing gropings, no whacks on the back of her head, just a normal, quiet breakfast. And what was with Dudley?

Shaking her head in disbelief, she went upstairs to her room, and started researching how to create her warning rings for Animagus, _Notice-Me-No_t, and Disillusionment spells. Now that she had free time she wanted those finished as soon as possible.

She decided to use an amethyst for the Animagus, black onyx for _Notice-Me-Not_, and diamond for Disillusionment. She would have the first letter of each — A, N, and D — appear inside the stones with a slight glow so she could see which was the trigger event when the intertwined rings vibrated.

She ate lunch alone, neither Dudley nor her aunt were at home. Dudley was with his gang, probably beating up some younger kid or vandalizing the nearby park. Petunia was over at a neighbor's house gossiping.

Dinner, she discovered, was take-out — Vernon had stopped at a Chinese restaurant and brought home dinner for them all, including Harri. This time she kept her mouth shut and asked no questions. None were asked of her.

Later that evening, just after dusk, a soft hoot at the window got her attention. "Hedwig!" She hurried over and let the owl in and retrieved the packet of letters she had brought with her. "How's my beautiful owl doing? Did you get anything to eat? Thirsty? Here, I put some treats in your dish." The owl preened under her attention and Harri got the impression she was happy at the attention. Hedwig hopped on the owl stand by the window and helped herself to the water and treats.

Harri had an early 9AM appointment with her solicitor tomorrow, Tuesday, plus all three of her friends were more than happy to accompany her on her visits to the Potter estates. Hermione had only one caveat, she and her parents were going on a French holiday for a month starting next week Friday, so she hoped that their "inspections" at least started before then.

Harri looked at the small memory bottle her solicitor had included. She would have to see if somewhere in one of her vaults a pensieve was hiding. Her solicitor must have been distracted to think Harri had a pensieve when they had never discussed the fact.

Harri wrote out an immediate reply to her friends asking them to meet her at The Hopping Pot, the café where she had first met her solicitor, tomorrow for lunch, and they would start their first inspection from Gringotts. "Hey, Hedwig," she asked her owl, "Would you mind delivering these tonight? After you've rested a bit?" Hedwig gave a soft bark. _Sure_, she seemed to say, _let me finish this treat and I'll be off_. Harri gave the owl a long look as she tied the missives in place on the owl's leg. Harri wondered, _Did she really say that?_

Harri, again, spent the night in her trunk's bedroom with the door locked. No wonder Dudley had bags under his eyes. His door was opposite theirs and the noise could only be louder — poor kid probably had nightmares, he'd be scarred for life, she was sure, imagining what his parents were doing at that very moment. He had always been out or sleeping over at a friend's house when Uncle Vernon had dragged her into their bedroom for a threesome, so the thought his parents were actually having _sex with each other_ probably grossed him out. She briefly considered putting a silencing charm on some tape and sticking it their wall and door so he, and she, didn't hear anything from inside when the door was closed. Naw. It was a valuable lesson for him. And she had her ultra-quiet trunk bedroom — _bliss__._

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri stared at the pensieve with its silver memory glittering at the bottom. "So," she said quietly, "That's my godfather?" She thought a moment. "He looks old. And very well dressed." And that's how a memory pensieve works? She was there, but watching over everything and not just seeing it from the memory owner's eye view. How strange. And as Professor McGonagall had said, she hadn't heard anyone's thoughts.

"Lord Black is thirty-three, but he looks twenty years older because of his time in Azkaban. The Dementors, the guards there, are very taxing on one, both physically and mentally. Most people go insane after five years. That he survived and is coping so well is a testament to his mental toughness. He still has problems, he told me, sleeping at night," said Andromeda Tonks. "Like you, he has no immediate family living, his father and brother died before you were born and his mother died while he was in prison."

Harri nodded an acknowledgement.

"He did not get along well with his parents, Harri. In fact, they all but disowned him from the family. He took refuge with your father and his parents, and ended up being adopted into House Potter. So, not only is he your godfather, but he is also your step-uncle, making the two of you the only Potters alive at this time."

Harri looked up sharply at this. "He's my step-uncle? He was officially adopted? He's actually a part of my family?" Her eyes were wide at the thought of actually having a living relative who cared about her. At least, she hoped he cared about her. His reactions and statements in the memory seemed to indicate he cared about her.

But why was he so interested? What did he want from her? And how would he react to her being a girl when he was expecting a boy? A doubt began to build, he wouldn't want to know her if he knew what had happened at the Dursley's home and at the Grunnings hotel suite. How could anyone want to know her if they knew that? Would he expect her to do things for him as she had done for TFS before Hogwarts? While she knew what she did in the hotel was wrong and illegal, family, she had discovered, was always different.

Her friends had childish unformed ideas about what she had been through, but they didn't have the experience that adults did to understand just what that meant in actual fact. When they got older, then they would understand that she had more experience with sexual matters than most grandmothers. They would understand that only prostitutes might have more experience than she did with men and women. They would understand that the number of men she had been intimate with numbered in the hundreds, that she had been in every position portrayed by the famous Kama Sutra sex manual, several times. Normal girls didn't _do_ those things, normal girls didn't _know_ those things. And they would regard her with disgust. They would leave her.

Consequences shook her. That was a situation for the future, she needed to concentrate on the here and now. She had friends, even though they were temporary, and she now had an adult who claimed he cared about her. She would determine what he expected of her later. In the meantime, Courage pushed forward.

He had known her parents. She could talk with him about her parents. If for no other reason than that, she wanted to meet with the wizard claiming to be her godfather. But how? She didn't want to be trapped in a room with an unknown man, so meeting somewhere private, like here at this office, was out. Somewhere public then. If they wanted privacy, a _muffliato_ spell would do the trick.

But she would have to pretend to be a boy, springing this on him suddenly would be a disaster, in either public or private. He had _known_ her parents and had _seen_ her as a baby boy. Getting him to accept her gender change would be a challenge.

"Our conversation after we left the office was primarily about our families. I did not tell Lord Black anything more about you than has been printed in the newspapers, so what secrets you wish to reveal are up to you."

Harri nodded approvingly, then said, "Lord Black? How is he Lord Black if he was disowned by his parents?"

Her solicitor smiled, "I said they all _but_ disowned him. It appears that while both his parents made a great deal of noise about how disappointed they were with him, they never really went all the way and actually disowned him, especially after his younger brother, the one who would have inherited if Sirius was disowned, died. If they had disowned him, then House Black would have gone to one of their distant relatives in a minor House. His parents may have hated what he decided to do, but he was still their blood and his father wanted him to inherit instead of a distant relative. As a result, he is now the head of the House Black, Lord Black."

Harri nodded. They hadn't disowned him and his release from Azkaban had let him take up his title as Lord Black. She wondered if he had as much money as she did. Well, that wasn't important.

"As your solicitor," she continued, giving Harri an uneasy feeling in her stomach, "I must tell you that Lord Sirius Black is my cousin. My father was his father's brother." She paused to give Harri a moment to think about that. "When I married my husband, Ted Tonks — who is a Muggle-born wizard — it was against my father's wishes and I _was_ disowned from the family." She gave a sad smile.

Harri reflected that that must have been a terrible blow, to have a family and then have them turn their back on you must have been horrendous. She shuddered.

"However, Lord Black has graciously reinstated me and my family to the House Black." She had a happier expression now. "But that will have nothing to do with my business relationship with you." She made a point of looking Harri in the eyes and adopting a serious expression. "As you saw in the pensieve, I told him nothing in detail about you, and I won't tell him anything he can't read in the papers without your express permission. Do you understand? I am your solicitor, first, a member of House Black, second."

Harri nodded slowly. So far, the woman had dealt with Harri in a straightforward and consistent manner. She had treated the girl as an adult, without the condescension Harri normally received from adults.

"And, as an aside to that, both Lord Black and I are distant cousins to you — our grandfathers were brothers. My sister married Lucius Malfoy — I believe you know Draco, his son? — so they, too, are related to you."

Andromeda spent the next two hours teaching Harri about the intricately inbred Pure-blood families. She ended the lesson with arranging for a tutor in wizard traditions and etiquette, twice a week for four hours each in a conference room here at her office, to start next week.

Before they headed to pub to meet with her friends for lunch and then visiting her properties, Harri said, "Would you ask Lord Black to meet me and a few of my friends tomorrow at The Hopping Pot? For a lunch at 12:30? And could you be there as well?" She did not want to meet him alone, and Andromeda could help her not make any social gaffs. Or, at least mitigate any she made. With that taken care of, they headed out to lunch.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri cast the _Notice-Me-Not_ spell as she followed Andromeda Tonks into The Hopping Pot. She carefully checked that no one was looking and had seen her before she cast the spell. Andromeda had stopped only a few steps inside the door, letting her eyes adjust to the darker interior and looking around for an empty table while partially concealing Harri and helping distract anyone who might have looked their way.

With that as a cover, Harri quickly flipped off her Hogwarts robe and stuffed it into her bag, pulling out a smaller and lighter House Potter robe with the crest prominently placed on the left breast. She tapped her glasses, making them visible, and tied her hair into a quick bun and stuffed it under her student's hat, leaving just enough untouched so that it made her look like she was a boy due for a haircut, soon. She parted her fringe slightly so that her distinctive lightning scar could almost be seen. She now looked like a typical Hogwarts' boy student wearing informal family robes.

The café was small, a dozen or so tables, no booths, inside and half-a dozen tables out front. The décor was simple and typical wizarding: light green walls interspaced with torches and candles on the tables, a white ceiling to reflect the light and help brighten the room. Large windows, knee-high to ceiling were at the front. The smell of cooking food came from the kitchen doorway. A waiter looked out the kitchen doorway and smiled at Andromeda as he turned to pick up a menu.

Harri canceled the spell and touched Andromeda's elbow lightly to let her know she was finished. They walked over to a large table over in the corner by the front windows. Almost as soon as they sat, the waiter arrived with two menus. He must have noticed Harry following the adult and snagged a second menu.

"Tea, please, a pot," Andromeda said before the young wizard could speak. "I'm waiting for some friends, possibly as many as five," she explained before he could say anything about two people sitting at a table obviously for a large group. "They should be here in fifteen minutes." She put a galleon on the table, far more than what a single pot should cost.

The waiter nodded and hurried off. Harri took a moment to cast a _muffliato_ spell around the table. She didn't want people at the nearby tables to overhear any confidences. She made it space oriented so that her friends were included as soon as they came close. Anyone sitting at a nearby table would hear nothing except indistinct murmurs.

They didn't have long to wait for almost immediately she saw Minie pop through the door and start looking for Harri. Harri waved her hand, and the bushy-haired girl hurried over. "I was so very happy to receive your invitation! I've never seen a wizard's estate before, it should be ever so much fun to look around one. You said you were inviting Ron and Neville as well, did they say if they would be here? My parents were very surprised to see an official invitation, from a Lord, no less. They wished so much they could be here to meet you. Dad at first thought you must be some 'old codger' as he put it, but I explained you were just one of my school friends and only learned about being a Lord before going to school and that you're just a normal kid at school. Do you think you could come visit my home so I could introduce you to them?" She stopped and looked at Harri expectantly.

"Ron and Neville said they would be here. I think we might meet their parents as well. I sent the official-looking invite because I wasn't sure Ron's parents or Neville's gran would let them skip off to visit estates, they might have thought we were having them on and just wanted to screw around out of their view, so they might come here with them to make sure everything is on the up-and-up." She paused, "And this is my solicitor, Andromeda Tonks, of Tonks and Tonks. She will be accompanying us to the various properties."

The waiter returned at that moment with the pot, seven cups and saucers, and the various accruements those entailed as well as additional menus.

"I don't see why I can't visit you sometime, perhaps even before you leave on that vacation you mentioned," Harri continued as the waiter set their table. "Shall I be mother?"

They had each just taken a sip when Harri saw Neville come in with the older woman Harri had seen at the train station. Why the woman wore a hat with a vulture on it left Harri mystified. Harri took care to stand and bow to the woman as they approached. "Lady Longbottom, Neville." Harri had met the elderly lady at the train platform earlier in the summer, but that had been rather rushed.

Neville bowed to Harri, "Lord Potter, may I present my Grandmother, Lady Longbottom. Gran, Lord Harri Potter."

"Pleased to meet you, madam," said Harri.

The elderly woman studied Harri a moment, nodding in acknowledgement and murmuring, "Lord Potter."

"And this," Neville turned slightly to indicate Hermione, "is my good friend from school, Hermione Granger." He smiled, "Everyone says she's the smartest witch at Hogwarts, and I, for one, agree completely." The two females nodded to each other as Hermione, blushing slightly at the praise, stood and sketched a quick curtsey. Then Harri introduced her solicitor.

"Please be seated," Harri indicated the table. "Would you like some tea?" She asked as she poured a cup, knowing Neville, at least, would say yes.

The adult nodded again and gracefully settled herself beside her grandson as he sat beside Harri.

"I'm grateful that you agreed to let Neville come with us as we visit some of my properties. As I'm sure he told you," she said as she placed the filled cup in front of the woman, "I was raised by non-magical relatives and knew nothing of House Potter and my. . . situation. . . until after I received my Hogwarts' letters." She looked over at the woman, who was sipping her tea and watching Harri, frowning at the confirmation of Harri's lack of noble education. "Neville's advice will be invaluable to me as I really know nothing about House estates and all that they will entail."

"Yes, Neville has told me a great deal about you in his letters," the old dowager stated. "He seems to think your life with the mug. . . non-magicals was quite harsh, but that you've adapted quite well to life at Hogwarts." She paused a moment and took another sip. "He also told me that he renewed the Longbottom alliance with House Potter." She looked up at Harri.

Augusta Longbottom was already impressed with the young lord, based simply on what her Neville had told her and what she had seen in her grandson's attitude since returning from Hogwarts. If not, they would never have come here.

Harri hesitated. She wasn't that informed on politics. "Yes, we did. It seemed like the proper thing to do at the time. Rumours that Neville was little better than a squib had produced some animosity from some Half- and Pure-Bloods, many of whom were annoyed at my 'famous' reputation. Joining forces to combat those. . . bigots, seemed like the best approach for us both.

"By the way, we've noticed that Neville has a difficult time casting spells and he told us that he's using his father's wand." She paused and sighed. "I certainly understand his sentiments, what I wouldn't give to have my father's or mother's wand." She stared at the tabletop for a moment, then looked up. "Well, anyway, according to Ollivander, when I went to get my wand, using someone else's wand is chancy at best. He said the wand chooses the wizard. You might consider taking him to Ollivander's and having him _check_ the wand to make sure it is a _good match_ for Neville. After all, it couldn't hurt to have a _professional_ evaluate the fit between Neville and the wand. In the unlikely situation that the wand _is_ a poor match, by forcing him to use a wand not suited to him you are hurting him."

The elderly woman was frowning fiercely.

"It's just a thought."

Ron came through the doorway at that moment, distracting Harri from the conversation. His father was a step behind him. After the introductions and they sat, the waiter returned with more menus.

It turned into a nice luncheon. Lady Longbottom apparently knew Lord Weasley, for he, too, was a Lord. The Weasley family was a very old pure-blood family, just as the Longbottoms, only the Weasleys had fallen onto hard times regarding wealth. Ron had not exactly been forthcoming on that subject, but just from his occasional comments about hand-me-downs and buying used where possible told Harri a great deal. Putting five children through Hogwarts at the same time could not come cheap, and next year there would be _six_ Weasleys there. Books and supplies were not cheap in those quantities.

Both Lady Longbottom and Lord Weasley were surprised to hear that Andromeda was related to Lord Black and their conversation revolved around him for several minutes. They were even more surprised, and a bit worried, to hear that he was godfather to Harri.

The kids talked a bit about school and their plans for the summer. Harri spent part of her time listening to the adults and was happy to hear that Lady Longbottom was pleased with her grandson's attitude since returning from Hogwarts. He was more assertive and was taking an interest in the estate that he had never shown before, even when she was schooling him on those matters in previous years. Before, he had had a "I can't do that" attitude and now he had a "I'm willing to try" attitude. A very marked improvement, she said. And his grades clearly indicated he was doing well in all his school subjects, so that talk of him being little better than a squib was complete nonsense.

Lord Weasley, or Arthur as he insisted Harri and her friends call him, was equally pleased with the changes he saw in his youngest son. Previously he had regarded schoolwork as a hideous chore and spent his time flying his broom or doing anything other than studying. His mother, apparently, had been worried he would never make it through his first year at Hogwarts.

Ginny, their little girl, obviously had the man wrapped around her little finger as he spent almost as much time talking about her with the grandmother as he did Ron. Ron did not miss that and Harri could see where Ron's jealous attitude had originated. Everyone in his family seemed to garner more attention than he did, which meant he craved that attention all the more.

Harri made it a point to mention how much Ron had helped them when Harri and Hermione were attacked by the Troll and when they were protecting the Philosopher's Stone.

The adults were quite surprised, and dismayed, to hear what had happened in both incidents. All they knew was what _The Daily Prophet_ had printed. It had downplayed the Troll attack into a minor incident that merely mentioned that a Troll had stumbled _onto_ Hogwarts' property and been dealt with before any students could be seriously injured.

_The Daily Prophet_ story of the attack at the end of the school year had focused more on the disappearance of Professor Quirrell, with only a brief paragraph about the attempted theft of a valuable school item. That the Philosopher's Stone was involved and student were injured enough to require hospital care for more than a day was never mentioned. Nor was it mentioned that the famous Harry Potter was at the heart of it all.

Arthur had discounted Ron's stories about their adventures as wild exaggerations. To hear from the other three, backed up by Andromeda's remark that she had seen pensieve memories of both incidents, that, if anything, Ron was downplaying what had happened set his father back on his heels. Lord Weasley mentioned that he was going to have a talk with his Molly about having the Headmaster over for dinner to delve farther into the matter — such as why he was never told his _son_ had battled a Troll at Halloween and that he had also protected the Stone from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, not to mention having a professor at Hogwarts possessed by the same for an entire school year without detection!

From her expression, and the look she was giving Neville, Harri had the feeling that she was planning a similar conversation with the Headmaster. Maybe Nev would get a new wand, soon.

When desert arrived, Harri said, "I have another request." She looked over at the two adults who simply looked back at her. "As Mrs. Tonks told you, I. . . I just discovered I have a godfather, Lord Sirius Black."

The two adults looked uncomfortable. Her friends looked amazed, they hadn't been listening to the adult's part of the conversation.

"I'm going to be meeting him for the first time tomorrow for lunch. I'd like my friends to be with me when I do that." Lady Longbottom started to frown. Harri quickly added, "My solicitor will be with us the whole time. I'd just feel better if my friends were there." She stopped for a moment. "You don't need to answer right now. I'd just like you to think about it and owl me tomorrow morning with your decision."

The two adults readily agreed to that suggestion. Harri had already asked her solicitor to allow owls from her friends and their parents to go directly to her regardless of whether they were addressed to Harri or Harry.

As they were getting ready to leave, Harri said, "One last thing, if you please." She looked at Lady Longbottom and Lord Weasley. "I ask that you do not mention to anyone that I am _Lord_ Potter. Please refer to me always as just Harri Potter. I don't want word to get out that I have taken up my peerage, it would bring about much politicking and cause other problems, _especially_ at Hogwarts. If you do accidentally mention that you met Lord Potter or that Neville and Ron know Lord Potter, just pass it off as an accident, and say that that's who I will be someday. And please just call me Harri whenever we meet."

The two adults looked at her for several moments before nodding and agreeing to keep the secret, although after they left the table to the children they walked together and appeared to be talking. Harri had the feeling that they might have a farther discussion regarding Harri, their kids, and Lord Potter.

Fifteen minutes later the four friends were standing in the foyer of Harri's London Penthouse with her solicitor.

The room was large, with two enormous fireplaces on one wall — fireplaces tall and wide enough for three people to walk into them — with an elevator door between them. The walls on either side of the elevator/fireplaces wall opened into small lounge areas, the double-doors currently open, while the final wall had two large, closed doors that clearly led to the rest of the house. The floor was marble with the Potter House crest embedded in different types and colors. The walls were filled floor to ceiling with landscapes and room scene paintings. After a moment, the empty scenes began to fill with people. Apparently, the paintings were similar to those at Hogwarts.

"Blimey!" muttered Ron, followed quickly by Minie's "Oh, my, god! It's beautiful." Both Andromeda and Nev looked amused as they watched the other three turn and stare.

The Penthouse was huge, taking the entire top floor of what Andromeda said was an old and exclusive hotel. The foyer was a pretty barbican, a place with no cover for enemies and many defensive traps. The only entry to the penthouse was through the foyer where they could be welcomed, held prisoner, or eliminated. No one could sneak into the Penthouse.

With an abrupt POP, a creature appeared before them. It was two-and-a-half-feet tall, with spindly arms and legs, an over-sized head, baseball-sized eyes, and pointed, bat-like ears bigger than Harri's hands. Rather than conventional clothing or robes, this creature was wearing what looked like a discarded pillowcase with the House Potter crest on it. It stood still for a moment, frowning at them, then threw itself forward to hug Harri's knees, crying, "Master Harry Potter, at last you here!"

An instant later, there were several more POPs and Harri found herself surrounded by a mob of the tiny strange creatures, all exclaiming in joy that "Master Harry Potter" had finally appeared. Hermione and Harri were amazed at the creatures while the other three appeared more surprised at their conduct than their appearance.

"Woah! Wait!" said Harri as she backed up, trying to escape the creatures.

Immediately the mob stepped away and formed a line in front of her. "Pardon! Pardon!" cried the first one who had appeared. "We's didn't mean harm! We's just so happy!" Another spoke almost at the same time, "The family died and we waited and waited and Master Harry Potter never came. We's thought Master Harry Potter didn't want us."

Harri stared at them. Before she could say anything, though, Andromeda spoke up. "These are the House Potter elves, they take care of the House Potter properties and the family when they are in residence."

Harri and Hermione turned to the solicitor, both asking at the same time, "House-elves?"

"Yes," she replied calmly, the House-elves remained silent. "Most wealthy Wizard families have House-elves to take care of the cleaning and cooking, and other minor chores. These fellows," she indicated the small mob in front of them, "have been keeping this place in perfect order during the last decade, otherwise this penthouse would look a shambles.

"In fact, House-elves, the Hogwarts' House-elves, have been doing your laundry and preparing all your meals for the last year." Both girls stared at the woman in surprise.

Hermione and Harri turned and stared at the little creatures, who stared back. "How much are they paid?" asked Hermione. "And who has been paying them for the last decade, here?"

"Oh, they don't get paid," said Mrs. Tonks, "they live to serve wizards and witches." She paused at seeing Hermione's frown. "It's a trade, you see. They can't live without a wizard's magic, so in exchange for some of the wizard's magic they work for the wizard. If a wizard refused to bond with them — that's what we call it, bonding — they would die for lack of access to magic. In the case of these fellows, they're bonded with House Potter and use the magic stored here." She smiled at the elves, who nervously watched and listened to the conversation. "They grow quite attached to the family they serve, some have served the same family for as many generations as the families have been around." The group in front of them all nodded vigorously. "In fact, the worst thing a wizard can do is to deliberately give them an article of clothing while being angry at them and dismissing them from service." The mob trembled at the thought.

"So," the bushy-haired girl said, "they're owned by the wizard? Like slaves? Or can they leave whenever they wish?"

The solicitor sighed unhappily, "They are bonded to the wizard and his family, they can't just up and leave. There are oaths in the bonding that prevent the elves from telling others about House or their wizard's secrets. If they violate their oath, they have to punish themselves. Unfortunately, some wizards use those oaths to hurt their elves."

"How?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

"For example, a wizard will tell a House-elf to punish itself if it makes a mistake fixing dinner, then claim at dinner that a mistake was made, such as too hot or too cool, just to make the creature hurt itself. They heal quickly, and the bond means the wizard can't make the creature deliberately kill itself, but they can cause tremendous pain."

"That's terrible! Aren't there any laws to protect them from abuse?"

The solicitor shook her head. "No. This is just the way it's been since House-elves were first bonded."

Harri was as appalled as her girlfriend and could see that the other girl was getting into a temper, but now was not the time nor place for such an argument. "Minie," she said softly, placing her hand on the other girl's shoulder, "Later, we'll look into this later. Right now we want to see the properties."

Hermione took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Right." She turned to face Harri, "But make sure this lot know they aren't to hurt themselves if they make a mistake. You might say something off-hand about the penthouse and they might take it as a criticism worthy of punishment — the place _has_ been empty for a decade."

Harri turned to face the mob. "Right. You heard the lady. You are _not_ to punish yourselves for any mistakes you may have made in the past or that you might make now, or any you might make in the future. Just tell us what you did that you _think_ is wrong and let _us_ decide if it's a mistake and how we want it fixed. Got that?"

A chorus of "Yes, Master Harry Potter," came from the mob.

Harri frowned. "And I want you to use my name Harri, short for Harriet, when you speak to me or about me to anyone else."

The mob exchanged puzzled looks, then said, "Yes, Master Harriet Potter."

"No, not Harriet, Harri. Just Harri."

Another chorus, "Yes, Master Harri Potter."

The long title was getting on her nerves. "Look, can you leave off all the title stuff and just address me as Harri? Save the titles and such for when visitors are here and not just my friends?"

This involved another, longer, silent consultation in the mob.

"I'm not sure that's going to work, Harri," said Andromeda. "You don't know it yet, but all House-elves have single names and they seem to think wizards and witches do, too. To them 'Master Harri Potter' is a single name, trying to get them to use a shorter form is almost like trying to force someone to use a nickname instead of a full name in a formal setting."

"Oh! That's it!" exclaimed Harri. She turned back to the mob, "How about this? When you see me alone, or with just my friends, you address me by my nickname, Harri. Otherwise, use the formal Master Harri Potter with company. Got it? I have two names, one for when private and one for public?"

Another long silent consultation in the mob before the leader said, "Master Harry?" shifting nervously from one leg to the other, with the others just as nervous based on the looks they were giving her.

Harri sighed.

"I think that's the best you can hope for, Harri," Andromeda said, chuckling softly.

"Okay. Master Harri it is." She silently vowed to get them down to just Harri someday.

The mob looked relieved. The leader stepped forward a pace. "I's Pipsy, and these be Mibby, Dilly, Tibby, Hokey, and Blinky." Each named elf bowed at hearing its name.

"First things first, Harri," said Andromeda. "Pipsy, please take Harri to the protective enchantment control stone for this property."

Following Andromeda's detailed instructions, Harri put one drop of her blood on the crest carved into the stone in the dimly-lit stone room that was somewhere under the hotel. For a moment, she was dizzy, then she could feel a warmness seeping into her from all directions. A minute later, she was back in the foyer with her friends.

"That was weird," she said to Andromeda, letting go of the elf's hand.

"Good," she replied nodding. "Now, I will disapparate and return so you can feel how they change when someone arrives." Suiting action to words, she disappeared with a crack only to reappear a moment later.

Harri felt the protective enchantments flicker with the impression that someone was waiting for her.

Seeing Harri's eyes widen slightly, the solicitor nodded again, smiling. "Yes, that's exactly what it's like." Then she added, "An attack would feel like someone pushing against you. Someone not keyed into the enchantments trying to apparate anywhere else but this room would be a combination of the two."

The others listened in silence. They all knew that someday they, too, would be responsible for the enchantments protecting their homes.

With that minor chore finished, they spent the next hour exploring the penthouse. It had ten bedrooms and seven bathrooms, three sets of two bedrooms shared one bathroom while the remaining four bedrooms had their own bathrooms. The master bedroom had a huge bathroom almost as big as the sitting-room at the Dursleys' with a tub and shower, each easily seven feet squared, and separate toilet facilities. The closets were, of course, huge. The penthouse was also crammed with furniture and paintings. It seemed that every room had at least twice as much furniture as it should, with two tables in the dining room leaving barely any room to maneuver.

Ron was the one to speak first, "What's with all the stuff around here?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Harriet looked at Pipsy and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"The evil one's followers attacked House Potter mansion," piped up the little House-elf. She looked up at Harriet wonderingly, "Two days after Master Harri kilt the evil one. But no wizards be there to fight," she said sadly. "Wards failed, they burnt it down. We elvesees were smart! We's took everything out before the evil ones got in. We's took everything here, it were closest. But then," she looked around, "Wes not know what to do after, so we's made it look good." Pipsy looked distressed at not doing something better. She reached up and started to pull lightly on one of her large ears.

"That's okay," Harri said soothingly, "You did very good in saving everything! We'll decide later what to do with the extra stuff."

The elf looked relieved at her words.

They almost lost Hermione in the Library, which, Pipsy told them contained fifteen thousand books including the books from the destroyed home estate. Books were stacked so closely together you almost couldn't walk into the room. She was more than willing to try, though. Harri managed to calm her down by promising she could help the House-elves organize the library later that summer.

In addition to the library and dining rooms, there were Drawing, Lady's, Sitting, two Reception, Family, Music, Breakfast, Tea, and Conservatory rooms, two Studys, and even a small ballroom. Harri decided to reduce the crowding in all the rooms by ordering the House-elves to convert one end of the Music room, about six inches worth, into a shelving stack and pack in all the duplicate use furniture there — after shrinking, of course.

Next on their list was the 650 acre farm in southeast Great Britain. It was divided into four fields, one of which was fallow, the other three were planted in wheat, barley, and sugar beets. While non-magical, they provided a steady income to the estate. There were three cottages, one for the overseer, a second for his help, and a third, for House Potter to use when visiting. The House Potter cottage was more of a small 2-floor Mansion with six bedrooms and four bathrooms upstairs and a family room, office, kitchen, playroom, and two multi-purpose rooms downstairs.

Last for the day was the farm in Scotland. This farm, being more isolated, was almost a thousand acres of mixed woodland and farm. The farm grew primarily magic-related plants, while the woodland was used for similar purposes for the rarer mushrooms and other items that only thrived in woody areas. Again, there was separate housing for the workers and the Potter House family. This time the building was a bit more rugged, reflecting its heritage in Scotland. The house elves were thrilled to show off their culinary skills to the travelers and served them dinner before the exhausted travelers returned to Diagon Alley and thence to home.

The foreign properties would require an international port-key to visit. Harri was especially interested in the French vineyard property, Andromeda had hinted that it might be a coastal property with an actual beach she could visit!

That night, describing what she had seen, her parents were thrilled that she was finally visiting the properties, with her mum telling her that yes, there was a beach at one end of the property.

Her dad wondered how the wine was fairing, as the last orders given had been to simply stockpile the wines due to the ongoing war at the time.


	16. Appearances are Deceiving, Pt 2

_Note: 7/1/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**16\. Appearances are Deceiving, Pt 2**

Tired though she was, Harri was up bright and early the next morning trying to prepare herself to meet her god-father. Her stomach was in a turmoil of anxiety.

Andromeda said he knew her parents quite well, and had in fact attended Hogwarts in Gryffindor House with them all seven years. According to her, the two, with their friends Peter and Remus, were inseparable, and insufferable. Knowing that Sirius had been officially adopted by Lord Potter all those years ago, mixed with the reputation for evil that the Black family seemed buried under, Harri had to wonder what Sirius was _really_ _like_.

What little she remembered from listening to Fred and George talk at Hogwarts, the quartet, having nicknamed themselves The Marauders, were actually little better than bullies. Most of their pranks bordered on cruel, from what she had heard, with quite a few crossing that line.

She had never heard of any of this from her parent's when she talked to them every night. While they did mention pranks, there were never any details. In her mind, her parents were perfect, learning that others considered her dad to be a bully was quite a shock.

It was with some trepidation that she awaited her godfather.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Lord Black had been sitting in The Hopping Pot for about an hour. He had deliberately arrived far in advance of noon so he could see his godson enter. He would be easy to spot, as Sirius' cousin Andromeda would be with him. All Sirius had to do was watch for her, and whomever she arrived with, so he was rather surprised when a magnificent white Snow Owl flew in the door and alighted at his table, imperiously sticking out one leg with a scroll attached. He removed the scroll and spilled a few owl treats from his pocket on the table.

While the owl ate, he opened the scroll. All it said was, _Traflagar Square - Andromeda._ He looked up at the owl in time for it to fly off.

Five minutes later, he apparated into the small alley just a brief walk from the famous square, the usual landing spot for wizards and witches headed to this vicinity. Almost immediately, he heard a hoot from above his head. A small brown post owl stood on a window ledge above him. As soon as the owl saw him look, it flew down to him and dropped the scroll it was holding in its beak. He reflexively grabbed it. A moment later, the owl was winging its way out the alley and across the square. The few Muggles who looked up at it as it flew by saw a large pigeon, and ignored it.

The message this time was, _A name for Potter - Andromeda_.

Black stared for second and then whispered, "Pronglet." Nothing. "Prongs."

A hook had grabbed him and yanked him away.

Once he had his bearings, portkeys are never fun, he heard another hoot, this time from his left. An owl stood on a trashcan. As soon as it saw him, it dropped the scroll it carried and flew away. This scroll said, _Turn left as you leave the alley, three blocks, McDonalds, second floor. _No signature this time. Like the others, this one turned to dust when he finished reading it.

He sighed and started walking.

He stood to one side as he reached the top of the stairs and looked around for his cousin. At first he didn't see her, but when he took a second look around, he saw her headed for him. As soon as she saw that he had seen her, she stopped and waited for him, then led him over to a big round table slightly back from the windows. They had watched him approach the restaurant.

There were four children seated at the table, all on one side, two girls and two boys, all either first or second year students, he guessed. He set his tray down on the table.

Andromeda smiled at him as she stood behind one of the boys. "This is Heir Neville Longbottom. Lord Black, Frank and Alice's son." He nodded and said "Hello, Heir Longbottom," as the boy nervously mumbled, "Pleased to make your acquaintance." Now that she mentioned them he could see the resemblance to his two friends, he should have been able to guess that.

She moved over behind the next boy, "This," she said, "is Ron Weasley, the youngest son of Arthur and Molly. I'm sure you remember them." Again he nodded. He vaguely remembered the two. He remembered Molly's brothers, Fabian and Gideon Prewett, better, having gone on more missions with them. Molly had mostly stayed home with her seven children and Arthur had rarely fought, being more of an agent in the Ministry for Dumbledore.

She moved again, putting a hand on the shoulder of the bushy-haired girl. "This sweet girl is Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born witch, and Harri says she's the smartest witch in Hogwarts." The girl blushed at the praise and murmured a soft "Hello," while dipping her head modestly.

His cousin placed her other hand on the shoulder of the other girl, saying, "And this. . . this is Harri Potter." And then she waited for his reaction.

The girl had dark eyes and long, light brown hair which reached to well below her shoulders, with a complexion and facial features similar to Andromeda. She looked remarkably like her daughter. But he had met her daughter, and this girl wasn't her. For one thing, her hair wasn't bubblegum-pink. A cousin on her husband's side, perhaps?

He frowned, then looked at his cousin, doubtfully.

The girl sighed, then reached up and touched the side of her face. Glasses suddenly appeared, her features changed ever-so-slightly, becoming a bit more angular. Her hair became darker, almost black. She pulled a ribbon out and tied her hair into a ponytail, then brushed her fringe lightly with her fingers, revealing a lightning-shaped scar on her, no, _his_ forehead. His eyes became a vivid green.

Sirius stared a second, then laughed, delighted. The girl had just become a boy. "No wonder no one ever sees Harry!" he exclaimed.

He sat down across from the boy, trying to drink in every detail, his tray completely forgotten. He didn't even notice the other trays on the table and that the children had waited for his arrival before eating.

"Merlin, you look just like James, but with Lily's eyes." He stared at the boy. "It is so obvious that you're Prongs' boy!" He grinned widely, "What a prank, Prongs would be so proud! You can go anywhere you want and no one is any wiser. Brilliant!" He sat back chortling.

Andromeda sat at the empty chair between Harri and her Godfather. "I put up a minor anti-magical protective enchantment so no one from our world will notice you meeting us, and a silencing enchantment so no one can listen."

Sirius nodded. "So, Harry, where have you been for the last ten years?" He looked at the boy inquisitively. He knew that his cousin had passed on what had happened to Sirius, and their suspicions that he had been tricked.

Harri stared back for a moment before responding simply, "The Dursleys."

"Dursleys?" repeated the wizard, puzzled, trying to link the name to a memory of a person.

"My Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."

"Petunia?" A brief pause. "Petunia . . . Petunia!" He stared at the boy, aghast. "Lily's sister?" His voice went up in tone. "She hated Lily! She refused to attend their wedding and returned your birth announcement unopened!" He sat back, still stunned. "Wait a minute, Petunia despised anything magic. How the hell did you end up there?" He straightened. "I was listed first in their will, then the Longbottom's . . ."

Neville straightened, glancing quickly between the older wizard and Harri, his eyes widening as he began to realize how that would have changed things. His Grandmother would have words to say about _that_ revelation!

"But they ended up in hospital, a week later, so then you should have been given to Emmeline Vance, and if she wasn't available, which she was, you would have gone to Professor McGonagall! How did you end up with Petunia?" He looked at his cousin, bewildered.

Andromeda met his eyes steadily and murmured barely loud enough to be heard over the restaurant's background noise, "It must have been for the greater good . . . ." Harri's face went blank, showing no expression at all.

His eyes widened in understanding, half-standing as if he meant to storm out of the room that moment, "That manipulative, misbegotten, son of a . . . ."

"_Sirius_," interrupted the solicitor, "language!" as she simultaneously reached across the table and, apparently accidentally, knocked over and spilt her coffee across his tray.

The wizard started at the cascade of liquid, broken from his thoughts. He slowly sat. He took a ragged breath and forced himself to calm down. That was done. He could, and would, deal with it later, right now he had a godson to reconnect with.

The next two hours were quite interesting for both sides. Harry and Neville were very interested in his stories about their parents when they were at Hogwarts. He was just as interested in their stories about their days at Hogwarts. He noticed how the others dominated the conversation, adroitly for children, deflecting attention away from Harry.

Harry answered most questions in monosyllables or short sentences, leaving his friends tell the tales. His eyes stayed on Sirius though, a faint frown on his face, making it difficult for the wizard to judge what the boy was thinking. The mention of a Troll in a Hogwarts witches' toilets, as well as an incompetent DADA professor, a Cerberus on the third floor, and more than just one visit to the Hospital Wing captured his interest, nothing in the papers had revealed such happenings at the school. Hermione's tale of how Neville broke his wrist brought an embarrassed blush to the boy's face, but the rest of the story ending in Malfoy's two-week suspension from school had the former prisoner laughing until tears came from his eyes.

All in all, though, he felt it was a very productive meeting between them, with both Harri and himself happy with what they had learned. While Harry demurred on arranging another meeting later that week, he didn't rule out doing this again soon. In fact, Heir Longbottom seemed interested in arranging a meeting himself just to hear more about his parents. Perhaps he could use that as leverage to get Harry to agree to more frequent get-togethers.

In the meantime, he was going to having words with that manipulative long-whiskered bastard about how Harry knew nothing about Wizarding traditions or manners.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The rest of the month and July seemed to fly by. Her wizard traditions and etiquette lessons were moved to a rented room in Diagon Alley. It wouldn't do to have someone notice that one Harriet Potter seemed to be meeting with Harry Potter's lawyers on such a frequent basis! There were weekly meetings with Lord Black, with first Minie, then Ron dropping out. Minie because she went on vacation with her parents to France — with a side trip in mid-July to the Potter Vineyards where Harri met up with them. And Ron because his mother felt he "shouldn't intrude so much in what were obviously private matters," and no amount of denials on either Harri's or Ron's part changed that opinion.

The meetings were always arranged by the solicitor for a location in Muggle London, never the same place twice. Neville and Harri quickly grew to appreciate the stories Sirius told them about their parents. He did manage to drag out of them the story of how Harri vanquished Voldemort at the end of the term. Neville added something to the story that he hadn't yet told Harri: "I thought I was hallucinating, seeing things, but it looked like black blob, a spirit maybe because it looked like it had a face, flew out of the black smoke and into a wall. I didn't mention it because I wasn't certain, but I think I should at least say something in case it really happened." The other two silently considered the implications of a spirit Voldemort out in the world somewhere.

The kids, that is Ron, Neville, and Harri, met almost weekly at the Penthouse, where Harri promptly stripped and ran around naked, eventually convincing the boys to follow suit. At first they were embarrassed, but when her only reaction was to give them both a brief glance and say, "See, you like being naked." She then ignored their erections, which after a while went away. After that first time, their nudity was never an issue, it was just what they did at the Penthouse.

Between the two boys they taught her the rudiments of swimming and all three discovered the soothing pleasures of the hot tub. Ron introduced Neville into the game of fondling her breasts occasionally, which usually resulted in the appropriate physical reaction on the boys' part. Nothing farther took place, though, which made Harri very happy. She considered taking things farther, herself, a couple of times, but then remembered Professor McGonagall's warning that sex had ruined far more friendships than it made. And the thought of losing these friendships so soon was a more than sufficient deterrent. She knew it would happen someday, but the farther away she could push that day the better.

Ever mindful of how Hermione would nag them once she returned from her vacation, they managed to complete their summer school assignments by mid-July.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri stood anxiously at the gates to the Potier Vineyards, waiting for Minie's family to show up. Millie, one of the French House-elves, had told her their rented car was approaching. Harri was in her guise as Harry.

Hermione and her parents had told her they would arrive in this part of southern France about the third week of their vacation. Three days ago, in the evening, Harri had sent one of her House-elves to find the Grangers. Millie had returned within minutes with a message from Minie saying they would be driving down that particular road today, and for Harri to be ready to flag them down or the Muggle-repelling enchantments would prevent them from seeing the entrance gates.

Harri had arrived early this morning and asked the elves to keep a watch for the Granger's car, a family with a witch and her Muggle parents. When the word came they had been sighted — it was close to noon — Harri had had Millie pop her down to the gates to wait.

It wasn't that long of a wait before she saw a car coming down the road. Mindful of the enchantments, Harri stepped into the middle of the road and waved. Millie warily watched from the gates, ready to rescue her mistress should anything unexpected happen.

The car began to slow and came to a halt. She could see Minie in the back seat hopping up and down and waving frantically. Harri grinned widely as she walked over to the driver's side door.

Mr. Granger rolled down the window. He looked around, puzzled. He saw nothing but vineyards stretching out on both sides of the road. Normally, he would have been tempted to stop and take a picture or two of the lovely countryside, but he thought it better to keep driving so they could get to Harry's estate that much quicker.

"Where's the drive?" shouted Minie

Harri waved at Millie, who snapped her fingers and the gates began to open. "Minie, put you hand on your dad's shoulder." The bushy-haired girl leaned forward and placed a hand on each of her parent's shoulders.

""Oh. My. God." Both parents stared at the ornate wrought iron gates anchored in centuries-old stonework. The refrain was repeated when they pulled into the circular drive in front of the mansion at the end of the mile-long entry drive. In fact, it was a refrain repeated many times that day as they toured the four-hundred-year-old building, the pressing and storage facilities, and the vineyards themselves. The small pristine beach at the seaward side of the property garnered equal praise.

The Grangers spent only a few days. The Potier Vineyards were the last stop on their tour of the Langedoc-Roussillon wine countryside, and they didn't want to have to rush home to England. The adults were astonished at the quality of the wines served, declaring that these were the best they had tasted yet on their tour. Mr. Granger, or Dan as he insisted Harri call him, wanted to buy a few bottles, but Harri insisted that he take them as presents, instead, saying that she had no idea as to their value and didn't want to overcharge them.

Harri managed to stay in character the whole time, avoiding any time at the beach in swimming trunks with the excuse that she had never learned how to swim until recently and that the ocean scared her a bit. Instead, she wore baggy clothes the whole time. After they left, she made arrangements with the elves to deliver four cases of wine to the Grangers' home, one case from each of the last four centuries with at least one bottle from each decade in each case. With the thousands of bottles in storage, their removal made no difference.

It was on the twentieth of the month, as she was about to go to sleep, that she realized she hadn't received her monthly statement from Gringotts since school vacation started. In fact, now that she thought about it, she hadn't received any owl-mail since her first meeting with her godfather.

She hadn't really noticed because they usually arranged their next play dates at the current one, or she would occasionally send an owl. She wrote off her friends non-responses as to either not having the time to respond or rationalizing that they would just see her later so why write? If one of the others didn't show, she just assumed something had come up at the last minute that prevented their arrival. She never thought that they might use the floo network to call and leave a message with one of the Penthouse House-elves explaining why they couldn't make it or would be late. And her meetings with her godfather were always arranged by her solicitor, who usually met her with her tutor once a week anyway.

Was that old fart starting up his tricks again and stealing her mail? But what was his excuse this time?

She hopped out of bed and immediately wrote a quick note to Andromeda asking if she had noticed any changes in owl-mail. And to notify Gringotts that someone was, once again, interfering in their business. She added that if she didn't hear back from Andromeda by Tuesday morning that she would see her that afternoon when they met for lunch with her godfather.

She climbed back into bed and wondered just what was going on this time.

Sure enough, when she went to her Tuesday Etiquette lessons her solicitor was there as well.

"Well, young lady," Andromeda started off after they exchanged proper greetings, critiqued by her instructor who then stepped out of the room to give them privacy. "It seems that your mail is indeed being intercepted, and this time it's not just a re-routing. It seems the owls themselves are being caught and relieved of their messages by someone using a _Confundus_ Charm to fool the owl into thinking that person is you." She sighed. "Unfortunately, it is happening close to your home and the enchantments erected by Headmaster Dumbledore are preventing us from getting close enough to see who is doing it."

Harri frowned, puzzled and slightly alarmed. "But shouldn't the enchantments prevent anyone from getting that close to me? If the enchantments are keeping the Goblins and you away how can this person get any closer?"

"And that, my dear, is the million galleon question." She crossed her arms and paced, while Harri watched. "We did talk with the Headmaster and he claims that the enchantments are layered tightly together. The first enchantment prevents wizards and witches from noticing #4 Privet drive. The next and much stronger enchantment prevents anyone who intends to harm you." She paused and looked at Harri. "His best guess is that whomever, or whatever, is stealing your mail is doing so in the belief that they are _helping_ you. That their theft is not intended to harm you but to protect you, thus the enchantments are allowing them through."

Harri thought about that for a few moments. "Does that mean that Malfoy could come to my house and visit if he had no intentions of harming me at that moment?"

That got a small smile from the woman. "No. If, however, he truly did not _ever_ mean to harm you, he could find your house."

Harri thought about that a bit more. "Could Voldie hire a couple of Muggle schemies to locate me and then attack the house?" After all, Dudley's buddies had no difficulty finding her during the Harri Hunts.

"That's a bit more complex, and the rough answer is no. A Muggle looking specifically for you, having never seen you before, would be repelled by the enchantments."

Harri nodded. That did make sense. Dudley's friends all knew him and her as well as the house, and had been in the house many times. Frequently to her regret.

"All we can do at this point is try other means. For the time being, have your friends send your Owl mail to Topsy at the Penthouse, and just check with her every day using your portkey. And keep an eye out for any strange people or creatures around your house."

"Okay, I'll ask the snakes and frogs to keep an eye out for strangers."

Her solicitor gave her a long look, but chose to say nothing more. Harri didn't notice, thinking on what she would say to her local friends.

"Here are the statements from Gringotts," the woman handed over a rolled parchment. "And I'll let you get back to your lessons." She opened the door and stepped into the hall. A moment later, Harri's instructor came in as Andromeda left.

That evening the snakes, one in the front yard and the other in the back, told her they hadn't noticed any strangers around the house, but then again, they hadn't been looking. They promised to keep a tongue out for any unusual scents.

And then it was her twelfth birthday.

Like many other birthdays, Harri woke promptly at midnight. This time, though, she didn't stare into the darkness, despairing of her life. Instead, she thought about how things were different. Today, when the sun rose, she wouldn't have to deal with a visit from her Uncle as he vented his frustrations by using her to sate his lust, and to show her how powerless she was, how she had no right to her own body. If he tried anything like that he would suffer, just as he had suffered that first day she came home this summer.

Dudley had explained, cringing slightly, once she had built her courage up enough to question, "Well, if we even think of you that way we get a terrible pain there," and pointed at his groin while staring over her shoulder. He no longer looked directly at her, if he could help it.

That explained a lot. It also explained why her Aunt had suddenly blown up the one time she had caught Harri coming from the bathroom naked — her husband would have felt like his privates were being pummeled if he had seen her, because the sight of her naked would remind him of when he could just throw her on the floor and shag her, triggering his punishment.

It was bad of her, she knew, but she no longer wore knickers under her short dresses. She had started going into the sitting room where the bastard was watching the telly, made sure she had her back to him, and then bent over or dropped to hands and knees while pretending to pick up or look for something. His groan and collapse to the floor in pain had been quite gratifying.

Unfortunately, Aunt 'Tunia had quickly wised up to her trick. She couldn't punish the girl, but any time she noticed Harri in the same room as her whale of a husband, she would stand between them, glaring at the girl until the orphan left. It had been fun while it lasted.

Dudley had been smarter than his father, though, he always looked away from her when she was around him. He, apparently, had better control over where his eyes roamed.

She still never wore knickers at the house for the occasional reaction from her uncle when he saw up her dress. The down side was she was forbidden from sunbathing in the backyard, whether or not the man or boy was home. That was okay, she just went to her penthouse when she wanted to sunbath — at least one of the balconies was always in the sun.

She wondered how today would go. She knew there wasn't going to be a party. The Durleys might be forced to put up with her, but they absolutely would never invite any of her friends over. The best she could hope for was a cake.

She firmly put that out of her mind, there was no reason for her to expect anything different from any other day at this house. Instead she focused on the most excellent day she had had yesterday at the Longbottoms.

She had been astonished when Neville had given her a letter the previous weekend when they met at the Penthouse inviting her to _his_ birthday party! She had looked forward to it all week. Tumbling from the floo had been embarrassing, and she had mumbled a quick "Sorry," but Madam Longbottom had been most gracious, vanishing the soot off her almost before she could stand. "Miss Potter," she said "Welcome to my home." The dowager had studied her carefully for a moment, before saying, "Has anyone taught you the proper method of using a floo?"

Harri curtsied as her instructor had taught her and shook her head, "No, ma'am. I was just told to toss the floo powder and say the name of where I wanted to go."

The elderly lady sniffed, "Next time, pretend you are walking through a tunnel, don't stop moving. And walk on the balls of your feet."

"Gran!" interrupted Neville, "This is a party, not a manner's lesson!"

The woman looked at her grandson, "There is always time to teach correct manners to those who were never told, it's only courtesy."

Harri was too excited to care anyway. This was the first birthday party she had ever been invited to attend. She wanted to watch everything that happened so she would never forget it.

Neville just sighed and grabbed her hand, dragging her away. "Come on, the others are in the Waiting Room." He showed her the way and then turned to leave, "I have to go back to welcome the other arrivals."

She looked around. Ron was already in attendance, as well as Susan Bones, the Patils, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and a few others she knew from school by sight, if not by name. There were also a couple of mothers, who had accompanied their child to help Mrs. Longbottom with the party. They were over by the windows watching the kids in the room and talking.

She carefully placed her gift with the others on the table by the door and made a beeline for Ron. The three of them had been at the penthouse yesterday, but she had never been to a birthday party and thought that if she stuck with him she wouldn't embarrass herself to much. They had already broken into small groups. Ron, Seamus, Dean and two other boys were discussing Quidditch; Lavender, Fay, Lilly, and Kellah were discussing some new beauty charms from Witches' Weekly; another group of girls, from Ravenclaw if she remembered correctly, were verbally dissecting a girl who wasn't present; and three boys were apparently playing rock-paper-scissors for some strange reason.

After another few kids had arrived, including Hermione who was back from her vacation, Neville and his grandmother came in. The imposing woman studied them for moment, drawing their attention, before announcing, "The itinerary for today is that lunch will be served in fifteen minutes. After lunch there will be games and activities for two hours, then we will have cake and ice cream followed by opening presents." For the most part they silently listened, except some of the boys who expressed delight at the cake and ice cream. Her stern visage remained unbroken. "I hope you will all have a good time."

The dowager, however did not leave as Harri expected. Instead she slowly made her way around the room, saying a few words to each of the children as she met them. Neville came straight over to Ron's group, to which Hermione and Harri had attached themselves.

"Sorry, guys," he said, "Harry Potter was unable to make it this year. He sends his regrets."

"Ah, I was hoping to finally meet the bloke," Seamus said, Dean nodding in agreement. Hermione and Harri faked their dismay at missing the famous boy.

When Mrs. Longbottom arrived at their group, she said a few words to the other boys, thanking them for attending and inquiring if everything was good with their families. When she turned to Harri, Harri noticed Ron and Nev carefully maneuvering the group a step or two away while Hermione watched, a bit perplexed.

"And how are you Miss Potter?"

"I'm fine, thank you for asking, Mrs. Longbottom."

"Neville has spoken well of you in his letters from Hogwarts, Miss Potter, He says you are very smart, attractive, and that people tend to underestimate your talents."

Harri blinked. Attractive? Smart? Talents? "I'm sure he exaggerated. Nobody has _ever_ accused me of being any of those things." She shot a glance at Neville, he gave her a weak smile. "If you want smart, Hermione is the smartest witch in our class, probably the whole school. And for attractive, Daphne Greengrass, Lavender Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil are the prettiest girls in our class." She paused a moment to think. "As for talented, I think Hermione is far more talented than I." She looked around the room to see what everyone else was doing. Lavender was watching her with a speculative expression.

"And modest, too," the old woman murmured. "How has your summer been so far?"

"Wonderful!" Harri didn't have to fake her happiness. "Dudley — he's my Muggle cousin, he's one month older than me — hasn't tried to sneak into my bed at night, not even once!" She saw Hermione's eyes widen, and a moment later saw her wand appear in her hand, twitching slightly as she cast a spell of some kind.

The grandmother blinked. "Really now?"

"Uh huh. And Aunt 'Tunia hasn't tried to hit me with her cast-iron skillet at all! She hasn't even swung it at me!" Hermione's eyes narrowed and she frowned. Ron was saying something to her but she was ignoring him. What were they doing? Nervously, she tried to edge a bit closer to see if she could figure it out.

"She hasn't?" the old woman said weakly.

"Nope." Harri continued distractedly, "Usually she gets me at least once a year with a good wack on the head. Makes me dizzy for a couple of days. But not this year!" Harri grinned happily. It was the small things that made the big differences.

Lavender was edging closer, with Padma and Parvati trailing, obviously trying to hear what was being said, but they were still a few yards away.

"And Uncle Vernon hasn't said 'Come here, whore!' or 'Spread 'em, slag!' at all." She hummed happily. "In fact, he tries not to even look at me anymore. And they've even been feeding me every day! Real meals, too, not just a slice of toast!" She sighed, "Best. Summer. _Ever_!" She grinned at Hermione, who had turned white as a sheet. She glanced up at Mrs. Longbottom in alarm. Had she said something wrong? She normally never talked about what happened at home, but surely Mrs. Longbottom was trustworthy or Neville would have warned her. And she looked like a strong woman. Besides, the dowager had said Nev had written her about Harri.

The elderly woman looked a bit white herself, but her expression was still bland although her lips were tightly pressed together.

"Does Headmaster Dumbledore know about your . . . relatives?" she asked in a strained tone.

"Oh, yes." Harri frowned. "I'm an orphan and he insists that I stay with them for some reason. Aunt 'Tunia says he's the one who left me with them ten years ago."

"Did he now." Her tone now was distinctly frosty, Harri could almost feel the chill from it. She stared at the woman.

Madam Longbottom gave herself an almost imperceptible shake and smiled down at Harri. "Well, I'm glad to hear your summer is going so well," she said warmly. "Thank you for coming to my grandson's birthday party." She studied the little witch. "I asked Neville if he knew your birthday, and he said it was tomorrow. Are you planning a simple get-together at home?"

Harri looked across the room. Almost everyone was looking their way. The elegant lady had already said more to her than any of the other kids. She didn't want them all to be waiting for her to finish talking. Hermione gave her an encouraging smile, but it looked a bit forced. Ron nodded at her solemnly.

"Er, no. I've never had a birthday party," she said quietly. "Oh, Ron wants me for something. May I go?" She started edging around the adult.

"Yes, of course you may. Here you are a guest at _Neville's_ party and here I am monopolizing your time. Have a good time, dear."

Harri saw Hermione give a minute swing to her wand.

It was with a distinct sense of relief that Harri joined Hermione.

"Neville, dear, a moment please," his grandmother called. She must have said something else in an undertone, for a House-elf appeared moments later.

"Excuse me, I'll be back in a minute," the grandson said to them.

Hermione stared Harri. "She hit you with a cast-iron skillet?" she whispered, furious.

"She only got me maybe once a year. First time she did it I was out for week, after that, well it only made me dizzy for a few days. No biggie. Hurt like the dickens, but I'd get over it. It's my fault for not paying attention and dodging when I see her swinging the skillet."

Hermione and Ron stared at her, aghast at her casual acceptance of the incidents. "Blimey!" was Dean's comment, followed by a "Cor!" from Seamus. They had only heard Hermione's comment. They all stared at her, making her very self-conscious.

At that moment, a door opened at the other end of the room from Harri and a young woman announced, "Lunch is served. This way please."

Harry had been expecting a standard rectangular table, with Neville's place at the head, as befitting the birthday boy. The table, though, was an oblong one. Neville's place was at one end, but he was offset from the center enough that there was room for two chairs. For some reason, Harri found herself sitting beside Neville's, with Hermione to her left. Ron was sitting beside Hermione. The rest of the kids were placed around the table alternating the boys and girls. Neville came in after everyone else had been seated.

The meal was delicious, and the games that followed — broom-tag, hide-and-seek, musical chairs (when the music stopped you had to _catch_ your chair!), beanbag toss (the holes tended to move at the last moment), creature charades, hiding-in-plain-sight, and several others — kept them occupied until they gathered again in the Dining Room two hours later for the cake and ice-cream. Occasionally, she noticed Neville glancing at her while talking to one of the other kids, but she thought nothing of it.

Hermione did pull her aside at one point to thank her profusely on behalf of her father for the four cases of wine. "Harri, my dad thought that the four cases were a bit much, so he thought he would send you a check for their value. He took them to a specialist and the man was shocked. He said that the Potier Wines were extremely rare, very high quality, and he had never even heard of a complete sequential decade collection of _any_ wine brand anywhere! He offered my dad 50,000 pounds cash on the spot for them!" Hermione paused for a deep breath. "That's more than my parents make in year! And that was only for the sequential bottles, the extras he would let my dad keep!"

Harri blinked. "Oh." After a moment, she said, "Well if he wants to sell them. . . ." She had never considered the possibility that they might have a resale value.

"Oh, no!" Hermione interrupted, "He went right out and bought a temperature controlled wine cabinet for them. No way is he going to sell something like that! Mum threatened him with sleeping in the garage for the next year if he did that." She laughed. "The specialist begged my father to invite him over should he ever open one of the bottles. He was soo jealous when my father told him about visiting the estate and sampling several of the wines there that were duplicated in the ones he had in the cases."

Harri was stunned. Maybe she would have a talk with the Goblins about selling select amounts of the older wines. It would have to be carefully done, she wouldn't want to flood the market and decrease their value needlessly.

Once they were back inside and all seated, in the same order as before, one of the mothers who had come with her daughter to help out, said, "Okay, everybody say Happy Birthday Neville!" Immediately afterwards, a big cake appeared, decorated, naturally, with candles and a big Happy Birthday message.

They sang the Happy Birthday song, after which he blew out the candles. Before anything else happened, though, Neville clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Everyone? Ready?" He paused dramatically. "All together — SURPRISE!"

Harri didn't know what was happening, but went along with the rest, her _surprise_ a bit behind the rest because she wasn't expecting it — it _was_ her first party, after all. Almost immediately, another cake appeared in front of _her_! And it had a Happy Birthday message with _her_ name, Harriet, on it! She stared at it stunned.

Neville started speaking. "Most of you don't know that tomorrow is Harri's birthday, but she isn't having a party because she didn't want to take attention from mine." Which was a polite way of saying, she knew, that nobody really knew her and no one would have come to her party after going to Neville's the day before, anyway.

"So, we're combining our parties into one!"

She turned and stared at him, dumbfounded.

The cake and ice cream seemed to evaporate it went so fast. Considering how much Ron ate, it was probably a good point that they had _two_ cakes instead of just one. Harri almost didn't eat any because she was staring at the piece of cake on her plate that was from _her_ birthday cake. Hermione finally had to tell her that Ron was eyeing her plate and if she didn't get a move on, he would snatch it from her!

The surprise didn't end there, when the presents came out there were two piles of them. One had a little card with glowing letters that said Neville while the other had a card that said Harriet. They alternated opening the presents between them. She barely noticed what Neville got, even missing his reaction to the Dragon-skin boots and gloves (with permanent heating/cooling charms as needed) she had gotten for him.

Instead she was speechless at the book, _The Witches Guide to Etiquette for all Occasions_, that Neville gave her (she did notice the Longbottom book plate on the inside cover), the gift certificates to Witches' stores that the girls gave her (written on the one from Hermione was a note, _for more knickers _— oddly enough, it was in Neville's handwriting), and Ron's certificate to Zonko's Joke Shop. The other boxes contained chocolates and candies from the other kids.

She was so stunned that she almost left after the party without giving her three friends their rings. Everyone else had left and Neville was hugging her goodbye before she remembered.

"Oh," she said, pulling back. She rummaged in her robe pockets. "Here, and here, and here." She handed each one a small box. "I charmed these to help us. They are warning rings that vibrate when they are near an Animagus, _Notice-Me-Not_, or _Disillusionment_ spell. The stones are amethyst for the Animagus, black onyx for _Notice-Me-Not_, and diamond for _Disillusionment_. The first letter of each — A, N, and D — appear inside the stones with a slight glow so you can see which was the trigger event when the intertwined rings vibrated. They have a range of about thirty feet."

"Harri, you didn't need to do this," Hermione started, staring at the rings wide-eyed.

"Yes I did," was her instant response. "You three have promised to protect my secrets, and this is my way to help protect you." She paused. "Well, put them on! They'll resize." She watched as each slid their rings on. "Good, now we'll never have to worry about someone sneaking up on us." She grinned happily.

And after sharing hugs all around, she went home and piled all her presents on her bed and just stared at them, sorting them into piles and then resorting them. She finally moved them to her trunk and spent an hour talking with her mum and dad. They were thrilled to hear about the party, and surprised to hear how Neville had shared his party with her, even going so far as to gather gifts and pretend the other kids had given them to her. She knew he had done it all himself, well, his Grandmother had done it at his request, she was sure. It was enough, almost, to make her cry.

Just remembering the party made her the happiest she could ever remember.

After breakfast, as she was reading one of her books in her room, she happened to glance out her window at the hedges lining the fence separating the Dursleys' side yard from the neighbors. Staring up at her were a pair of eyes. But they weren't just a pair of eyes from an animal like a rabbit or any of the small creatures that occasionally wandered through the neighborhood. No, these eyes were huge. It took her a moment to figure it out, but then she made the connection. A House-elf was watching her! Was she, or he, the one stealing her mail?

The eyes blinked, then disappeared. She immediately went outside and looked for her snake friends. Unfortunately, she could only find the backyard snake and he had noticed nothing different in the last few weeks.

For the rest of the day she kept looking out the window expecting to see the House-elf again, but it didn't happen. As seven o'clock approached, TFS — the fat slob — told her for the tenth time that day, "We're expecting some important people tonight, the Masons, this dinner could be the salvation of Grunnings. I want you to stay out of sight and I don't want to hear a peep out of you all evening, understand?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon, I'll stay in my room and quietly study."

"See that you do!"

Aunt Petunia, wearing a nice cocktail dress that did nothing to improve her looks, pointed at a plate on the counter as the odor of a beautifully cooked roast drifted through the house. "There, your dinner. Take it and go. Quickly!"

The plate was nothing more than a peanut butter sandwich with a glass of water beside it. Silently, Harri grabbed the items and took them to her room. Fortunately, she had already fixed herself a quick dinner in her trunk an hour or so ago, and the sandwich would make a nice snack. The water she poured down the bathroom sink, she already had a butterbeer open that was leftover from her earlier dinner.

She couldn't help but overhear her uncle's last minute instructions to his wife and son on what to say and how to say it. He was really going to be brown-nosing the Masons!

Last year, she herself would have been made available to them to seal the deal, if Vernon had thought they were bent that way. She happily hugged herself — never again!

Listening as the Masons arrived and the sucking-up began, she couldn't believe that people were so shallow as to fall for the obvious insincere actions of the Dursleys. Everything they said sounded as if they were reading from a script, and a badly written one at that! It made her stomach hurt just to listen.

She had just slapped a charmed post-it note on the door that silenced her room when she heard a POP! come from behind her. Spinning in place, her wand was out and pointed at the little House-elf almost before she realized what he was.

They stared at each other.

The House-elf slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet.

"Er — hi," said Harri suspiciously. What was an unknown House-elf doing in her room?

"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir . . . Such an honor it is . . . ."

"Th-thank you," said Harri, edging along the wall and sinking into her desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. She kept her wand pointed at the elf as she asked, "Who _are_ you? Are you a Potter House-elf?" And how had he found her?

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the House-elf," said the creature. He sighed sadly, "I'm not a Potter House-elf." A tear appeared at the edge of one of his enormous eyes and dripped down the side of his nose.

"Em — I don't want to be rude or anything, but — this isn't a great time for me to have a House-elf in my bedroom." She paused. "Not that I'm not pleased to meet you, but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir . . . it is difficult, sir . . . Dobby wonders where to begin . . . . "

"Please, sit," said the girl politely, pointing at the bed. And he knew she was supposed to be a he. The elf burst into tears — very noisy tears.

"_S-sit down!_" he wailed. "_Never . . . never ever . . ._"

"I'm sorry," she said, alarmed, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything —"

"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard — like an _equal_ —"

"You can't have met many decent wizards," said the orphan, trying to cheer him up. Dobby seemed a lot like her House-elves, but much more . . . excitable.

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, "_Bad_ Dobby! _Bad_ Dobby!"

"Stop that!" Harri hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir . . . ."

Harri frowned heavily. "You are not to punish yourself while you are in my house. And I'm a she."

Dobby stared at her, "Not punish himself?" he whispered, before breaking into tears once again.

After calming the poor creature down again, "Do they know you're here? Your family, I mean." asked Harry cautiously.

Dobby shuddered.

"Oh, no, sir, no . . . Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir —"

"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?" Harri would certainly notice if one of _her_ elves started doing something like that!

"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments . . . ."

"Ah!" Harri held up her hand, "No punishments in my house!" She thought a moment. Something had to be drastically wrong for a House-elf knowingly to go against her or his master's wishes, as Dobby was clearly doing. Whomever owned Dobby had pushed the poor creature beyond his limits. "This is my house, and you have to obey my rules while you are here!" she stated firmly.

"I do?" asked Dobby, not understanding.

Harri considered carefully how she could say it. "Okay, while you are at home or following your master's orders, you have to punish yourself if you make a mistake, correct?"

Dobby nodded.

"And you are not here on your master's orders, correct?"

Dobby nodded slowly.

"So, because you are _not_ here on your master's orders, if you do something wrong, you don't have to punish yourself."

Dobby looked doubtful, but he slowly nodded.

"And because you are at my house without your master ordering you to do something that means you must follow my orders while you are here as long as they don't conflict with your master's orders correct?"

"But Dobby was . . . ."

Harri interrupted, "But you are in my house, and while you are in my house, nothing you do or say requires punishment because you were not sent here by your master!" She paused. "And how can you be punished for telling the truth? You master hasn't said you can't tell the truth has he?"

Hesitantly, the creature said, "I have been forbidden to speak of certain things . . . ."

"Have you been told you can't speak the truth?"

A slow head shake was the response.

"Then you mustn't punish yourself for speaking the truth in my house. And any master who would order you to punish yourself without a reason is a bad master. That's the truth and you can say it here!"

Great tears dripped down his face and he shuddered. "Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew . . . ."

Harri said, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year at Hogwarts; that's Hermione."

"Harry Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harri raised her eyebrows. This House-elf changed moods faster than Dudley ate candy bars.

Dobby leaned toward Harri, his eyes wide as headlights.

"Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago . . . that Harry Potter escaped _yet again._"

Harri nodded and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears. "But I had lots of help from my friends," she added.

"Ah, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he _does_ have to shut his ears in the oven door later. . . . _Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts._"

"W-what?" Harri stammered. "But I've got to go back — term starts on September first. I don't _belong _here. I belong in your world — at Hogwarts."

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" said Harri in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" said Harri at once. "Who's plotting them?" She'd argue with him later about the she/he stuff.

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.

"Hey! Remember, no punishments here!" cried Harri, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning _me_?" A sudden, unpleasant thought struck her. "Hang on — this hasn't got anything to do with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," she added hastily as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

"Not — not _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,_ sir —"

But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harri a hint. Harri, however, was completely lost.

"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts," said Harri. "I mean, there's Dumbledore, for one thing — you know who Dumbledore is, don't you?"

Dobby bowed his head.

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir" — Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper — "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't . . . powers no decent wizard . . . ." He stopped, twisting the edge of his pillow case, glancing at the wall.

"No punishments for what you say here," Harri quickly stated, "as long as you speak the truth."

Dobby nodded reluctantly.

Harri brooded about Dumbledore and Voldemort. "Well, Dobby I have to return to Hogwarts, that's where all my friends will be."

"Friends who don't even _write_ to Harry Potter?" said Dobby slyly.

"Wait a minute," said Harri, frowning. "How do _you_ know my friends haven't been writing to me?"

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best —"

"_Have you been stopping my letters_?"

"Dobby has them here, sir," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harri's reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harri could make out Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though it was from Hagrid. Hagrid! She hadn't been to visit him even once!

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harri.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry. . . . Dobby hoped . . . if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him . . . Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir. . . ."

Harri wasn't listening. She made a grab for the letters, but Dobby jumped out of reach.

"Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, sir!"

"No," said Harri angrily. "Give me my friends' letters!"

"Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice," said the elf sadly.

Before Harri could move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and sprinted down the stairs. Bollocks! Uncle Vernon would have a coronary if he saw the House-elf. And Harri would be in for it!

Harri sprang after him, trying not to make a sound. She jumped the last six steps, landing catlike on the hall carpet, looking around for Dobby. She could hear Uncle Vernon talking in the Dining Room.

Harri darted up the hall into the kitchen and felt her stomach drop.

Aunt Petunia's masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, was floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.

"No," whispered Harri. "Don't . . . ."

"Harry Potter must say he's not going back to school —"

"Dobby . . . please . . ."

"Say it, sir —"

"I can't —"

Dobby gave her a tragic look.

"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good."

The pudding fell to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream splattered the windows and walls as the dish shattered. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanished.

There were screams from the dining room and Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen to find Harri, rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Aunt Petunia's pudding.

At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. ("Just our niece — very disturbed — meeting strangers upsets her, so we kept her upstairs. . . .") He shooed the shocked Masons back into the dining room, giving Harri a look that promised Harri he would flay her to within an inch of her life when the Masons had left, and handed her a mop. Aunt Petunia dug some ice cream out of the freezer and Harri, still shaking, started scrubbing the kitchen clean.

What fuster-cluck! She knew, well, sorta hoped, that the Dursleys wouldn't really hit her, but there was that nagging doubt. And how had that bloody House-elf found her? What if he _told_ someone, like his _master_, where Harri was? Clearly whoever his master was, it wasn't someone nice if they were plotting something terrible for Hogwarts. Terrible enough to galvanize their deranged House-elf into actually _doing_ something that the master wouldn't approve if he knew. She would have to make sure all her friends knew what had happened.

Aunt Petunia was just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swooped out again. Mrs. Mason screamed like a banshee and ran from the house shouting about lunatics. Mr. Mason stayed just long enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this was their idea of a joke.

Harri stood in the kitchen, clutching the mop for support, as Uncle Vernon advanced on her, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes. Consequences was firmly in control and waited fatalistically for the coming doom.

"Read it!" he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the owl had delivered. "Go on — read it!"

Harri took it. It did not contain birthday greetings.

_._

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine._

_As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C)._

_We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy._

_Enjoy your holidays!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE_

_Ministry of Magic_

.

Harri sighed. They still hadn't detected her emancipation, that much was clear. She looked up at TFS and gulped.

"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," said Uncle Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes. "Forgot to mention it. . . . Slipped your mind, I daresay. . . ."

He was bearing down on Harri like a bloody great walrus, tusks, er, teeth bared and glistening. "Well, I've got news for you, girl. . . . I'm locking you up. . . . You're never going back to that school . . . never . . . and if you try and magic yourself out — they'll expel you!"

And laughing like a maniac, he dragged Harri back upstairs.


	17. Unintended Consequences

_Note: 7/1/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**17\. Unintended Consequences**

Furious, TFS dragged her upstairs with his left hand. It was too late for Consequences to help, Courage would have to handle things now.

Charging into her room through the open door, he suddenly spun around and smashed his meaty right fist into the side of her face. She slammed into the wall beside the closet door and collapsed to the floor, more unconscious than not. Faintly, she heard a shout from downstairs, but her uncle's roaring drowned that out.

"How DARE you!" He kicked her in the ribs. "I . . . have . . . had . . . enough . . . from . . . you!" He punctuated each word with another kick. She felt her ribs bending. She vaguely heard her aunt frantically calling for her husband, but Vernon was too wrapped up in his rage to hear her. She tried to protect her ribs with her arms. "No . . . more . . . FREAK . . . stuff!" She felt her right arm snap, then a rib break. "You . . . will . . . NEVER . . . go . . . back . . . to . . . that . . . FREAK . . . school!" Two more ribs broke.

She felt the floor shift as he stepped back. She could hear the satisfaction in his voice, "Go ahead, use that FREAK stuff now and they'll throw you out forever!" She tried to brace for another kick, but nothing could prepare her for him taking a step forward and kicking her hard enough to throw her against the wall beside the open door. He drove several of the broken ribs into her lungs causing her to scream with the excruciating pain. She waited for another blow but instead he turned and stomped towards the door. Unfortunately, he chose to stomp over her legs and she felt bones crack and break as he slammed down on them with his full twenty-eight stone weight. She cried out and coughed, almost passing out from the pain, liquid dripping from her mouth to the floor. The familiar, almost forgotten metallic taste told her it was blood. He had definitely broken something inside her. He stopped at the door and screamed "WHAT?!" at her aunt.

"IT'S DUDLEY," came the answering scream, "SOMETHING FREAKISH IS ATTACKING HIM!"

Her uncle turned, glaring angrily, and yelled at her, "I'll deal with you and your flying rat later." The door slammed closed shaking the whole house.

It hurt to breath. It hurt not to breath. She tried taking shallow breaths, that was less painful, but she had to occasionally take a deep breath and that hurt terribly. After a while she realized the house was dead quiet — the Dursleys had left.

She tried to call for help, "Pips . . . ," but she spit up blood instead. She tried to clear her throat and tried again. "Pip . . . sy." It came out more as an agonized whisper. She was trying to take a deeper breath to attempt again when there came a POP.

"Master Harri Sir call . . . MASTER HARRI!" She couldn't see the little elf but the panic and horror was clear in her voice. "You needs Healer now! I take you to St, Mungos!"

"No," whispered Harri. That would be a big mistake. Her identity would immediately come out, as well as her status and all her other secrets. Foes would know exactly where she was and how helpless she was. "Pom-" she started, "Pom . . . frey," she managed to get out through the pain.

She could feel the uncertainty of the little House-elf, but she wouldn't disobey. After a moment, there was a POP. The injured girl concentrated on not moving and breathing as little as possible. It was getting more difficult to get her breath, it seemed she had to take bigger and bigger breaths to get the same amount of air. Consequently, the pain went up and she tried taking smaller breaths, which made her dizzy.

POP! "Pipsy is very sorry, Master Harri Sir, but Madam Healer Pomfrey is not at Hogwarts and is nowhere else Pipsy can find."

Harri concentrated on breathing, the pain seemed to be lessening. Or maybe she was dying, she wasn't sure. "Heal . . . me," she managed to gasp out. House-elves were always punishing themselves, they _had_ to know healing spells.

There was an astonished pause. "Pipsy . . . Elf-magic is not for people." The House-elf was aghast that she would even think to ask.

Harri wondered at that. "Do it . . . or watch . . . me die," she whispered. It was becoming harder to concentrate on what she was doing. At least, if she was dead she would be with her family. Although, she really should have made out a Will. She didn't want the corrupt Ministry to get their hands on all her vaults, but it was too late now.

The elf was crying and carrying on, Harri couldn't understand any of what the incoherent creature was saying. She must have closed her eyes because she could no longer see anything. On the other hand, while she could still feel the pain, it was . . . softer. It was still there, it hurt just as much, but it just didn't . . . matter anymore.

Then she could see again, but now she was floating in the air. Below her was a hysterical house-elf beside a crumpled figure in a small pool of blood. The house-elf looked up at her and screamed incoherently. The creature turned to her body, for that was the figure on the floor she realized, and a great burst of bright light flowed from the elf to her body. For a moment, nothing happened, then she was suddenly sucked down. It turned dark again, and the pain became more intense

Then it hit her, a wave of magic, sliding inside her, pouring into her. It seemed to run through her body, charging down her nerves, flowing through her blood, crackling over her skin. Her magic at first resisted, pushed back, but this new magic wasn't the same as hers, it slipped through her magic. If her magic were a cup of water, this new magic was like a drop of dye, shifting, twisting, flowing, not replacing but somehow changing what was there to something different.

The two magics blurred where they touched as the new magic spread. The new magic changed as well, becoming less of what _it_ was and more of what _hers_ was.

She felt her ribs sliding against each other, moving. Her arm and leg bones were also moving. The pain was excruciating, even worse than when TFS broke them. It went on forever, but was actually only a few moments. Just as she was about to pass out, the pain lessened. Her breathing eased and she began taking gulps of air. The magic wave began to subside and the pain faded away. Soon, just the pool of blood by her head and the metallic taste of it in her mouth were the only reminders of her near-fatal injuries.

She pushed herself up to a sitting position and examined her legs. She threw off her blouse and ran her hands up and down her ribs. Nothing hurt and there were no signs, not even bruising, that TFS had ever kicked her. She looked in the closet-door mirror and if not for the dried blood on the side of her face, no one would ever know he had hit her. She felt energized, as if she had just taken a Pepper-up Potion.

Well, that was certainly interesting, not even Madam Pomfrey had managed to cure any of Harri's injuries that fast!

She turned and looked wonderingly at the sobbing elf. Pipsy had collapsed in the middle of the room. The elf looked at Harri fearfully as if she had done something very, very wrong, and expected a very severe punishment. Great tears were running down the sides of her face.

"That . . . was . . . brilliant!" Harri finally said. She was sure she was going to die, yet now she felt fit enough to go for a run!

"Pipsy, Pipsy be so sorry Pipsi used Elf-magic," she said miserably. "Pipsy ready for Pipsi's punishment."

"What are you on about?" asked Harri, "That was brilliant. Why aren't elves Healers?" She spun in place, relishing the lack of pain.

The elf stared at her wretchedly, "Pipsy has stained Master Harri Potter's magic with Elf-magic. Pipsy must be punished."

"Not on your life!" declared the girl happily. "If that's the cost for saving my life, I'll pay it. And gladly!"

Pipsy looked at her uncertainly.

"Okay," said Harri, "does this . . . in any way limit my magic?" Her magic felt different, she was more aware of it than at any time before. She was also aware of Pipsi's magic. Which was weird because she had never noticed another's magic before.

"No . . . ." came the hesitant answer.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Pipsi dirtied Master Harri Sir's magic with Elf-magic."

"Is that a crime?"

"No . . . ." was the uncertain reply. Pipsy looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's just . . . Wizards don't want Elf-magic. We's inferior."

Harri thought a minute.

"Does this mean I can do Elf-magic?"

"Yes, Master Harri Sir."

"Ace!" came her immediate response, "Teach me." It was easier to think about that than what her Uncle would do when he returned. In fact, it would be better if she went into her trunk and just stayed there until September.

Minutes later, they were in her trunk bedroom and she had remotely closed her trunk. No one was going to get in, not Uncle Vernon, not anyone!

It took a bit more coaxing, but finally Pipsi caved in on teaching her elf-magic and said, forlornly, "Yes, Sir, Master Harri Sir," and held out her hand.

It was a distinctly odd experience, compared to magic teaching at Hogwarts. Pipsi would do something while holding Harri's hand and explaining what she was doing. At the same time, Harri felt a — stirring? — inside her. Then Harri would try the same magic. It sometimes took several tries, but eventually she would do it as well.

Several hours later Harri had mastered a score of different cleaning charms, none of which required a wand. They all just required a finger-snap to activate. She could move furniture with a push, make things disappear from one location and reappear at another (how the meals at Hogwarts were moved from the kitchens to the tables), make dirt and grime vanish from clothes, and — most important of all — how to POP from one location to another!

Elves, she realized, were actually very powerful creatures. In a straight-on one-on-one duel she had no doubt that the elf would win — if the creature didn't just collapse on the ground wailing at the thought of fighting a wizard. They could dodge quicker than the eye could see and while they didn't know any really dangerous battle spells, many of their cleaning spells could be deadly. For example, the spell to carve and section a freshly killed chicken or pig into its food components would work just was well on a wizard — sliced, diced, and packaged for delivery to the kitchen.

And POPing! Harri had floo'ed, side-along apparated, and port-keyed places, none were comfortable or all that convenient. Floo'ing required a fireplace hooked to a network. Apparating required that you had been there previously. Port-keys required that not only you know someone who had been to that location previously, but they had to be skilled enough to make a port-key without splinching the user or sending them somewhere else entirely. All three were location specific.

POPing, on the other hand, allowed you to go to places you had been as well as could take you to _someone_, even if you had _never_ been to where that person was! And it didn't make her sick or cause her to stumble around like a fool. It also had the advantage of working through protective enchantments, unless the enchantments specifically prohibited elves from doing that!

And that meant she could go anywhere she wanted at Hogwarts, instantly!

Daylight was appearing in the trunk's fake windows — they were spelled to show the view from wherever the trunk was — when Harri's experience caught up with her and she abruptly felt extremely tired. She barely made it to her bed before falling asleep. Pipsy, not having any farther instructions from Harri, decided it best she stay with her master, and began cleaning the trunk rooms, which had never received a cleaning except what little Harri had decided to do.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

"Master Harri Sir, . . ." came the voice. Harri was in the middle of a wonderful Dursley-free dream. The unfamiliar squeaky voice brought her awake instantly. It took her sleepy brain a moment to catch up with what the House-elf was telling her. ". . . gle Aurors at the door knocking. They's asking if anybody is home."

It took only a brief moment to realize she was in her trunk bedroom. "So? Let Aunt 'Tunia get it." She pushed herself up onto her elbows to blearily face the House-elf.

"There's no one else home," came the response.

"Shite," Aurors meant she would have to answer the door. If it were neighbors or anyone else she was supposed to ignore them. Only the Dursleys were allowed to answer the door. Aurors meant it was magical and they would know she was here. And Aunt 'Tunia would have a fit if Harri _didn't_ answer the door.

She quickly jumped from bed and ran her fingers through her hair. God, she'd look like a mess! Remembering one of the charms from last night — or was it earlier this morning? — she concentrated and snapped her fingers. Immediately, she was dressed with her hair properly combed. She looked like she had spent an hour in the bathroom preparing. Now _that_ was a really useful charm. Instead of _Wingardium Leviosa_ they should teach _that_ one to the First Years!

She ran to the stairs, yelling, "Coming!" so they wouldn't do something stupid like blowing in the door thinking she needed saving. Moments late she flung open the door to . . . half a dozen Muggle Constables. She leaned forward and looked to both sides. No Aurors in sight. Damn.

Remembering her manners, she stood straight and looked at the foremost two on the walkway to the door. One was half a step closer and was in plain clothes. Consequences directed her to him, "Good day, Sir, how may I help you?" she said as politely as possible. Her lessons on etiquette were paying off.

The man smiled back at the little girl in the pretty blue dress that complimented her green eyes perfectly. She appeared not more than ten years old to him.

From their reactions, Harri thought they hadn't expected anyone to be here. Madam Pomfrey had told Harri that the nutrient and other potions would go a long ways towards correcting her malnourishment, but it would take a few years to regain her lost height. And she might never reach the size she would have if not for the neglect of her relatives.

"Is this the Dursley residence?" the man asked in a pleasant voice.

She noted the smile did not reach his eyes.

"Yes, Sir, it is."

They stood staring at each other for a moment. Harri wasn't about to say anything that wasn't an answer to a direct question.

The officer blinked, "I am Inspector Manaham and this is Sergeant Williams. We're from the Surrey Police"

She nodded in acknowledgement, "Pleased to meet you." She had guessed that from the fact that the police cars at the street had 'Surrey Police' proudly displayed on their sides.

After a moment, he realized she wasn't going to offer her name. "Might I ask your name?" he finally said.

"Yes."

When she didn't say more he didn't quite grit his teeth, but some of the pleasantness left his voice as he asked, "And your name would be?"

"Harriet James Potter." She tilted her head slightly, questioningly, and unknowing just how cute that made her look to two of Britain's finest.

Are you related to the Dursleys?"

"Yes."

After a moment of silence, he said, "And how would that be?"

"I'm their niece, my parents are dead."

That brought a temporary halt to the questions. The Sergeant pulled out a small notebook and started writing.

"May we come in?"

"Why?"

The question threw the Inspector off his normal procedure, "Well, We're here on a rather private matter and I don't think we should have this discussion on the porch."

Harri noted that the police cars parked in front of #4 Privet Drive had attracted the attention of the neighbors, and that it was late afternoon. She had apparently been asleep for ten or so hours. Houses on both sides of the street had nosy housewives peering in their direction. She couldn't help but smile a trifle at how furious Aunt 'Tunia would be when she found out.

The Sergeant was having a bit of difficulty restraining his smile at the girl's responses. She was making his boss on this run jump through hoops to make the most basic progress. Several of the Bobbies in the background were openly grinning. Apparently, not many people were willing to try to take the micky out of Inspector Manaham.

"Is there someone else at home? A babysitter, or other older relative, perhaps?"

"No," came the simple response.

He stared at the girl. She looked like she was ten, but she acted like she was an adult. What kind of household did the Dursleys have?

He crouched down to get to her eye-level. "Well, Harri, . . . may I call you Harri?" He paused, expecting a _yes_.

"No." She stared at him levelly, with a curiously blank expression.

He took a breath, obviously reining in his temper. It must gall him to no end to be stymied by a young girl like herself. One of the Bobbies was having a coughing fit, which the Inspector ignored except for a slight tightening in his shoulders.

He tried again. "Miss Potter, last night something happened and your Aunt and Uncle brought their son to the emergency room with life-threatening injuries."

Harri couldn't hold back her shock, "Really? The hospital?" She held up her hand to stop any farther statements or questions and thought. She looked down at the ground for a minute, frowning in thought. Finally, she looked up at them and said, "I'm sorry, but I am a minor and I don't think I have the right to allow you into house. And while I am sure you have a search-warrant, being an underage child I think we would both be better served if you were to bring a Child Protective Services representative here before doing anything that might jeopardize your case."

And before anyone could move she stepped back and closed the door.

As the Inspector was staring at the door in shock, the mail-slot popped open and he could see her startling green eyes looking out at him. "I will sit here and wait so that I do not contaminate your potential crime scene."

It took another forty-five minutes for a CPS representative to arrive. In the meantime, the orphan instructed Pipsi to hide all signs of wizarding things in her room while leaving out in view things that were Muggle, including fake schoolbooks. The intermittent use of a silencing charm, as she thought of things, hid what she was saying from the Constables.

She also demanded that each of the Bobbies present show his or her warrant card to her. She did that more to keep herself, and them, from being bored. Most of them thought the whole situation was funny.

The Inspector sent several Bobbies to question the neighbors.

By now, the whole neighborhood knew of the constables at the Dursley place and word had drifted over to the nearby streets. There was quite a crowd, Harri was pleased to note, by the time the woman from the CPS drove up. After making her show her identification, she was Crystal D. Cupp according to her I.D., and forcing the Inspector to show her his search warrant, Harri opened the door and stepped outside.

The Bobbies swarmed inside.

Almost immediately, one of them announced that there was blood in the dining room. It was a chaotic few minutes before Harri, the Inspector, and the CPS worker sat down in the sitting room and the questioning began. Sergeant Williams stood at the entrance to the room, while Harri and the CPS worker sat at opposite ends of the couch, with Harri the farthest in the room. The Inspector took the cushioned chair across from the couch. Harri demurely sat at the edge of the couch with her back straight and her hands clasped loosely in her lap. She stared at the Inspector curiously.

"Were you home yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Did you leave for any reason?"

"No."

"What did you do yesterday?"

"Read my schoolbooks."

"Schoolbooks?"

"Yes, I attend an exclusive school in Scotland and they assign homework for the vacation."

"What's the name of the school?"

"Hogwarts."

Sergeant Williams looked surprised and stepped over to Inspector Manaham. He leaned down and said something too quietly for Harri to hear. The Inspector looked over at Harri. "Have you heard of St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Girls?"

She smiled — obviously, the neighbors had been more than willing to share the dirt on the Dursleys. "Yes, that's the school that the Dursleys like to tell everyone that I attend." She paused, then added, "The Dursleys don't _like_ me," in a neutral tone.

"Right." The Inspector looked at his notes, clearly gathering his thoughts.

"Can you tell me what your day was like yesterday?"

"Yes."

He glared at her a moment. She ignored it. His glare was nothing compared to those she had received from Professor Snape. Those could make an orange peel itself in terror. She frowned slightly at the thought, and wondered if she could get Professor Snape to glare at an orange to see if it really would peel itself. She actually thought it might.

"Would you please tell me what you remember from yesterday?"

"I spent most of the day in my room ignoring my uncle, aunt, and cousin, as I usually do — if I leave them alone they mostly leave me alone."

The three adults shared a look, there was more information in that statement than first appeared.

"Uncle had a client from work coming over for dinner and he didn't want me to interfere, so he had ordered me to stay in my room all day. He was worried I might disrupt their brown-nosing practice for the Masons."

Again, a rather loaded statement that made a couple of eyebrows raise.

"My dinner was a butter-sandwich with a glass of water which I had in my room while Aunt 'Tunia made last minute preparations on the roast for their dinner guests.

"I decided I wanted a bit more, so I snuck into the kitchen after they started their dinner. Unfortunately, I knocked over the dessert pudding while I was getting a fizzy drink out of the fridge.

"The crash made a right mess of the kitchen, and Uncle Vernon was about to throw a wobbly, but the Masons were more important. So I started to clean up the mess. I would have finished, but about fifteen minutes later an owl — can you believe it, an owl? — flew into the house. It seems Mrs. Mason is terrified of birds and she ran out of the house. Mr. Mason seemed to think it was Uncle's fault and left in a rage. Uncle Vernon went into a major wobbly at losing this deal."

The Sergeant had been scribbling like mad while Inspector Manaham just made the occasional note. Miss Cupp merely continued to study Harri, trying to read her body language. Harri tried to appear relaxed and unworried — although maybe she should seem anxious? These _were_ Bobbies here. She started jiggling her foot as if she were nervous — well, as nervous as a little kid should be.

"Uncle Vernon thought it was my fault and dragged me upstairs and threw me into my room and ordered me to stay there all summer. Then he slammed the door. I heard Aunt 'Tunia say something about Dudley being attacked, and then the next thing I knew the house was empty. So I went to bed." She couldn't mention the beating because the elf magic had removed all the evidence. It would be right puzzling for her to claim he had broken her arm and legs when there was clearly nothing wrong with them.

The two men stared at each other briefly.

Picking his words carefully, the Inspector asked, "How would you describe your cousin's . . . relationship with his parents?"

She snorted and sat back on the couch. "He got everything he wanted from them. He pitched a fit this year because he got just thirty-seven presents for his birthday while last year he got thirty-eight. He wanted forty-one presents, which they immediately went to the toy store to buy. And if you saw him you can guess that they never failed to give him whatever he wanted to eat, and in whatever quantity he wanted as well." She barely topped the scales at five stone, the lard tub easily hit fourteen stone.

They sat quietly for a few minutes as the Constables tried to come to terms with what she said versus what had happened to the boy. Not to mention the drastic differences between the two children. They had already noted that while there were family pictures on the mantle and on the walls, none featured a girl.

"How long have you lived with the Dursley's?"

"Eleven years." The next question would be how old she was, she'd give them that one. "My parents died when I was one."

She noted the startled look that Miss Cupp gave the two Bobbies. They had clearly underestimated her age.

"Have you ever seen either parent hit the boy?"

She snorted disdainfully again. "Never. Usually I get blamed and punished for anything that goes wrong." She pressed her tightly clasped hands between her legs. The CPS worker stiffened. Oops. She hadn't meant to say that last sentence out loud. She looked at her lap and pulled her dress straight. She looked back up and re-clasped her hands lightly.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as a Bobbie opened the cupboard. She smiled slightly as he suddenly turned. "Inspector?" he called. "I think you need to see this."

While the Dursleys had restored the cupboard under the stairs to its former duty as a boot and coat cupboard last year, her crayon drawing on the walls inside were still there — and the blood stains on the walls and floor. Neither Uncle Vernon nor Aunt 'Tunia had ever ordered her to clean it up. They had just piled their boots and stuff on the tiny old cot.

The two men took a long look. The Inspector looked back at her. "Miss Potter, can you tell us anything about this cupboard?"

"That used to be my bedroom until I was six. At the beginning of my second year primary they gave me the bedroom upstairs, but used the cupboard as my 'time-out' space after . . . " She paused a second, ". . . after punishing me when I did anything wrong." She blinked rapidly for several seconds. She looked at her lap. She had pressed her hands between her legs again. She straightened her skirt and re-clasped her hands. A half-smile quirked her lips, "I used to pretend the spiders were my pets and I taught them tricks, but Aunt 'Tunia found out and started using bug-bombs to wipe them out.

"They stopped using the cupboard that way last summer."

The Miss Cupp had been staring at her non-stop, face slowly getting paler.

Harri turned to her, frowning, "Is something wrong?"

The woman mutely shook her head but then stood and joined the two men inspecting the cupboard for a moment before returning to her seat.

The two Bobbies talked briefly before calling over a Bobbie with a camera.

Inspector Manaham looked back at Harri, "Would you please show us your room upstairs?"

She led the three upstairs. A Bobbie was already in Dudley's room, and another in his parents' room. They seemed surprised when she went into her room. What? Were they expecting her to take them to the attic?

The two men began a thorough examination of the room. Her trunk got their attention rather quickly. Pipsi had out-done herself. The trunk was a solid violet color with small, non-moving unicorns decorating it. The brass trim had a dark-blue enamel coating. No self-respecting boy would come within ten feet of it.

"That's an impressive trunk you have there," the Inspector said.

"Yes, it's very convenient for carrying my books and clothes." She opened it to show the drawers and hangers, hoping they hadn't noticed the Potter Crest, her embossed name, or that the trunk product line was named after her. The fact that all were colored violet to match the background color helped conceal them. She left the flap down for the door to the trunk rooms. All these Muggles would see was an ordinary upright trunk with drawers and a shelf on one side and a shallow space for hanging blouses and skirts on the other.

Pipsi had taken Hedwig's perch and bowls into the trunk, and had replaced her parchments and quills on the small work-desk with Muggle pens, pencils, and paper, and placed a history book with them. She knew that all the adults could see was a typical girl's spotlessly clean and organized room.

She stood quietly in the middle of the room, watching as the adults looked in her closet and examined her desk and bed. After a few minutes, she asked, "What happened to my cousin? You said he had been hurt."

The Inspector looked up from her desk. "He was severely injured, apparently beaten."

"What were his injuries?" At the Inspector's hesitation she added, "He is my cousin, I should know how badly hurt he is."

The man frowned but finally said, "The doctors said he had four broken ribs, three which punctured his lungs, both legs broken, his right arm broken, a possible concussion, and numerous other bruises and cuts."

Harri nodded in understanding. She stood, blinking, thinking. His injuries were the same as hers. She felt her lips start to curl in a smile, but she suppressed it and left her face blank. So, that was what Professor Snape had done to prevent them from physically hurting her. Every blow struck against her became a blow against their own son! Break her leg, his leg broke, too. That was kind taking the whole Old Testament 'an eye for an eye' to a whole new level — instant Karmic revenge!

After ten minutes, they returned to the sitting room. The CPS worker was still pale and eyeing Harri as if she expected her to explode. The Inspector and constable stood at the entrance while Harri and the woman returned to their previous seats.

Curious what they were saying, Harri touched her hidden wand holster and whispered a quick spell.

". . . case doesn't make sense. The kid's beaten almost to death and the girl says she heard nothing and that the parents have never raised a hand to him. She's either the most accomplished liar I've ever met or she's telling God's truth.

"Pictures everywhere of the boy, none of the girl. Blood in the cupboard — I'll lay you odds it's hers — and a bedroom upstairs so clean it isn't believable.

"And there's blood in the dining room."

"Well, their story about him being attacked in the backyard by a thug is a crock of crap, the only blood is in the dining room, and the trail from there to where their car was parked."

The Inspector looked over at her and noted that she was watching them. He turned so she couldn't see his lips moving. "She certainly couldn't have done that much damage to the boy, simply not big enough. And I doubt the parents would have stood by doing nothing."

"And from her . . . reactions . . . I'd say she's the one who usually gets a beating." The other added.

Harri stiffened slightly, she hadn't realized she had given anything away. She would have to be more careful in the future.

The two men didn't say anything for a moment. "Right, then," said the Inspector. He turned and walked over to Harri. She said a quick _finite_ on her spell, barely whispering it.

"I'm afraid your uncle and aunt are going to be indisposed for a time, are there any relatives we can call to take care of you until they get back?" He smiled congenially, but again she could see the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, there is Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge Dursley — but she hates me. She'd as likely set her dogs after me when you left. She thinks it's great sport for them to chase me around the house when she visits." Harri paused a moment thinking, barely noticing the looks of shock on the adults.

"Would it be alright if I called Mrs. Figg? She lives two streets over and the Dursleys usually leave me with her anytime they leave the house for more than a day. They've been doing that for years." She paused. "She won't mind. I usually stay there for a couple of weeks every summer when my uncle, aunt, and cousin go on vacation. And I find her cats relaxing."

She looked at the adults, considering. "I imagine it would be lots less work for you, too. Less paperwork and easier on the department budget." She blinked. She knew that all government agencies seemed to be short on money, and anytime they could save money they would.

The adults shared a look.

"And you would know where I was and could easily visit if you had any more questions," she added. "At least let's stop by and you can take a look before making a decision." She tried giving them her puppy eyes that Ron said were devastatingly effective.

It must have worked because a few minutes later she was loading a change of clothes into a kitchen waste bag for a couple of nights stay. If it was longer than that, they had agreed to let her come back for her trunk.

Harri could see Mrs. Figg peering at the Constable's car as it pulled to a stop in front of her house. The old woman was already opening the front door as they walked up to it.

"Hi, Mrs. Figg!" Harri called out merrily. "Dudders has somehow managed to hurt himself and ended up in Hospital. These Constables came over to the house to get me because uncle and aunt are going to be at the hospital with my cousin for a couple of days and they said I can't stay at the house by myself. I suggested that we ask you if I could stay here instead because I've stayed here before and I really don't want to end up in a home." There, that passed enough information without getting to the sticky parts.

The old woman looked at the two officers and the woman with them as they introduced themselves. Blinking owlishly, she invited them inside. "Mind the kittens, now, the others are smart enough to stay out from underfoot, but some of the kittens haven't learned that yet."

The adults looked around the sitting-room, noticing that even though there seemed to be a lot of cats, at least a dozen in view, the room was spotless. There wasn't that 'crazy cat-lady with far too many cats' stink they normally found in such houses.

By their expressions, Harri could see that the spotless condition of the house surprised them. Harri wasn't sure how the old woman managed it, but she did. Harri bent and scooped up the two kittens that were winding their way around her legs. In moments, both were purring contentedly in her arms and a third had gamboled over and was leaning against her legs.

After a brief inspection of the house, including the spartan guest room Harri normally used, the adults decided that letting Harri stay with the old woman was a good idea. The girl clearly liked the woman and didn't mind the cats, and the woman herself seemed perfectly happy to let the girl stay.

Harri thankfully watched the Constables drive off. If they had officially taken her into 'protective custody' she would probably have been placed in a dormitory with other girls and there would go her opportunities to go to her Penthouse, meet with her lawyer, or do anything fun in the wizarding world.

Mrs. Figg was a known element. She didn't care if Harri took off for the park for the day, or wandered around town. As long as she was there in the evenings, Mrs. Figg figured everything was all right. It would put a limit on her activities, but was miles better than a home for 'problem' children.

After she put her bag in the bedroom, she grabbed her Charms book from her shoulder bag, which Pipsi had loaded with her schoolbooks, and headed to the sitting-room. She arrived just in time to see Mrs. Figg stepping back from the chimney flue. There was a fire going that hadn't been there moments before and the color was changing from green back to the normal yellow one would expect.

"You're a _witch_," Harri exclaimed, surprised.

The old woman turned, surprised to see the girl out of her room so quickly. "No, a Squib, actually," she said, bitterly adding, "Close enough to taste the magic, but unable to do anything with a wand."

They stared at each other for a few moments.

The woman sighed, and looked Harri in the eyes, "I'm sorry. I really wanted to help you, but I didn't dare do more than the absolute minimum for fear the Dursleys," her face clouded over in hate, "would stop letting you come over here. All I could do was make sure you had adequate meals, a decent bed, and long hot showers or baths whenever you wanted when you did come over." She looked out the front window. "I couldn't ask about you, I had to wait for them to contact me."

Harri whispered "Why?"

She turned back to Harri.

"Why did you do this?" Harri waved her arms. "If you knew I was a witch, why didn't you tell someone? Why didn't you tell _me_?" Someone had known the truth about her for years and done _nothing_! She could feel rage building in the back of her mind.

"I couldn't, Harri," Mrs. Figg explained. "Albus told me that you had to be here among the Muggles to keep you safe from the Death Eaters. That if the Wizarding world knew where you were, both well-wishers and Wizards who wanted you dead would constantly mob you. And that _nobody_ could keep you safe.

"He made me take an oath to tell no one where you were or what you looked like. He made me take an oath not to interfere unless your life was directly threatened. He chose this house so it wouldn't be so close as to raise suspicions among the Dursleys or the Wizards. That it made it difficult for me to watch you was less important than not betraying where you lived to anyone who might watch me.

"I told him as often as I could. I told him about your nightmares. I told him about Dudley chasing you. I tried, time and again, to get him to do something, to let you stay with me, if nothing else. But all he ever said was that it couldn't be that bad, that family would _never_ deliberately mistreat family. He just said that what I heard had to be exaggerations."

"He knew," Harri stated. "The son-of-a-bitch _knew_! And he did _nothing_! NOTHING!" Harri was hyperventilating and her vision was going black at the edges. She could feel her magic whipping around her as she had never felt it before. She wanted to strike out, to attack something, to DESTROY something.

But this wasn't the place. The old woman wasn't to blame. Harri had nothing but good feeling about the woman. She had been the only island of safety in Harri's life. She wanted to destroy, but not here, not her. Caught between two diametrically opposing desires she did the only thing she could do — she passed out.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

She awoke to a pounding on her door.

"Are you okay, Harri?"

It was Dudley's voice.

Her room, as she looked around, was exactly as she remembered it, right down to her violet-colored trunk — the unicorns all were on the side closest to her, watching her. They were pawing the violet and tossing their heads back. She was in her nightgown. If not for her trunk's new colors she would have thought she had had a nightmare.

"Harri?" came the call again.

"Just a minute," she rolled over and onto her feet. She started for her dresser, but then thought, _Well, why not?_ She closed her eyes and visualized what she wanted done, then snapped her fingers. When she opened her eyes, she was dressed and her folded nightgown was on her bed. Well, that confirmed that yesterday was not a dream.

She glanced at the door mirror and snapped her fingers a second time. Her bed-hair was gone and now looked as if she had spent an hour brushing it.

She opened her door. Dudley was standing against the opposite wall, eyes down on the floor. She studied him carefully. Just like her, there were no signs of his severe beating, or that he had been in hospital.

"What day is it?" Her birthday had been Friday.

"Sunday." He fidgeted.

"What happened Saturday?"

"Some of your people came to the hospital and fixed me. Then they did something and the doctors forgot we were there. Then they brought us home. They were very angry with mum and dad." He stopped and took a deep breath. He looked up at her and there was a scared look in his eyes. "Every time dad hit you whatever he did to you happened to me." He gulped and there was a shininess to his eyes, as if he was suppressing tears. "I've never felt such pain. I . . . I'm sorry." He shuddered and turned to the stairs. He stopped just as he reached them. "I'll bring you dinner," he said without turning, and then he went downstairs.

She slowly closed her door. She walked to her dresser and checked to see if her clothes were there. She hoped Mrs. Figg had been the one to put her in her nightgown. Everything _seemed_ to be where it should be. She decided that a trip to Mrs. Figg was in order.

There was a tentative knock open her door. When she opened it, there was a tray with Shepherd's Pie on it and a large glass of fizzy drink. Harri found herself surprisingly hungry and managed to finish off the entire thing in a short time. She took the now-empty dishes and tray to the kitchen. The Dursleys were still in the dining room, they were oddly silent. She quickly washed the dishes and utensils, putting them in the drying rack and returning the tray to its cabinet.

Five minutes later, she was knocking at Mrs. Figg's door. The old woman was surprised to see her. "Is everything all right?" she asked as she let Harri in.

"Yes, I just have some questions."

The woman led Harri into the sitting-room, "Would you like some tea, dear?"

"No, thank you, I just finished dinner." They both avoided looking directly at each other.

"Ah. Well, dear, what can I help you with?"

Harri looked up at Mrs. Figg. "What happened? I mean, I know I passed out, but after that . . . ," she frowned. "Everything seems normal at the Dursleys."

The woman sighed. "Yes, of course. Not a moment later but Albus came through the floo with several others. One of them gathered you and your things while the rest went to the Dursleys. What they did was _obliviate_ . . . you do know what that is don't you?"

Harri shook her head no.

"Ah. _Obliviate_ is when you take someone's memories and substitute something else. In this case, they _obliviated_ the Muggle Aurors and made them forget that they were at the Dursleys and everything they had done there. Instead those Muggles now think they were sent somewhere else where they discovered nothing out of the ordinary — an altogether forgettable day for them. Then Albus went to the Muggle hospital with Madam Pomfrey and fixed Dudley right up — he really was badly hurt she told me before she returned to Hogwarts. Then they _obliviated_ the doctors.

"So, the end result is that none of the Muggles, except the Dursleys, remember anything about what happened. Professor Snape told me that the spell he put on the Dursleys made it so that they could never deliberately harm you without their son getting the same injuries. Apparently, the Dursleys never understood exactly what that meant."

_Or perhaps he hadn't told them about that, leaving them to learn by experience_, Harri thought,_ that would be more his style_. Her conjectures had been correct, but this _obliviate_ was troublesome. Had anyone ever done that to her? How would she know? Was there some way to — backup? — a memory?

They talked a bit more about the _obliviate_ spell, but Harri didn't really learn any more about it except that repeated exposure could cause permanent memory problems when the person was older. Mrs. Figg didn't know the exact spell — she was a Squib, after all — but said she wouldn't tell Harri anyway, it was too dangerous for someone of Harri's age. It was too easy, and tempting, to abuse.

By unspoken agreement Harri had a new arrangement with the Dursleys — she stayed in her room and they left her strictly alone. Dudley left her meals outside her door and she left the empties there when she was finished. When she left the house, she put a note on her door so they wouldn't prepare a meal that she wouldn't be there to eat.

Otherwise, things were back to normal in her life. She did contact Gringotts and her friends and told them about that odd elf Dobby and that he had been intercepting her mail.

The next weekend Neville met her at the Penthouse and explained that he had sent a letter that she had never received, and said, "I'm sorry about my mother's questions in the Waiting Room at the Manor. I didn't know that the room is permanently charmed to make people feel welcome and to generate a feeling of trust in guests. Apparently, all old Manors have such charms in their Waiting Rooms. As Grandmother told me, they used the charm in an attempt to get enemies to let slip things they might not want people to know. It doesn't work if you know it's there, and all the old families do. That's why you let slip a couple of things I'm sure you didn't want others to find out!

"I managed to calm Grandmother down a bit, she was really upset to hear that the Dursley's used to hit you. She has made an appointment to meet with the Headmaster about what you said.

"It's a good thing no one knows your address or she would have gone over there after the party and I'm not sure the house would still be standing if she had!

"In any event, I hope you had a good time here, I know I appreciated you coming to the party."

Harri made sure he knew that his party had been the best experience of her life. She even kissed him on the cheek as a thank you for sharing his party — and let him give her breasts a massage in the hot tub.

Hermione threw a right loud wobbly the first time she visited the Penthouse after her vacation and discovered Harri running around nude with the boys. Hermione insisted that they couldn't be nude, so the boys wore swimsuit bottoms, as did Hermione — after spending a month topless at French beaches, Hermione had gotten out of the habit of objecting to that. She vetoed pants and knickers after seeing how transparent they became in the pool.

She tried to convince Harri to do the same, but then Harri showed up wearing a mesh-net thong swimsuit that covered nothing. It attracted more attention from the two boys than when she wasn't wearing it. Hermione gave up and let her do what she wanted.

Given the failed detente at the Dursleys, Ron suggested several times that Harri move into his house for the rest of the summer. The problem there was that his family had never met Harri except briefly at the train station. And while he talked about Harri whenever the previous school year came up, with snide commentary from the twins, he had made a big deal about how he was always visiting Lord Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, this summer with nary a mention of Harri, the girl. He couldn't suddenly out-of-the-blue drag the girl into The Burrow without raising more questions than either wanted to answer.

And Harri visiting as Harry would be a logistical nightmare trying to keep secret that Harri was really a girl. Not to mention the quagmire of trying to explain why Lord Potter's adoptive family had left him behind while going on vacation!

Neville also volunteered his house. His Grandmother had met Harri and was sympathetic to her situation. She at least understood they were good friends, even though he spent a good portion of the summer with his other friend Lord Potter. But he was unsure how his Gran would feel about it — having an unchaperoned girl living in their mansion with them was just not done.

It all came to a head when Ron accidentally mentioned at dinner that the Dusleys had taken off vacation the previous week. It was the second week of August and they didn't expect to return until school started for Dudley. That left Harri alone at #4 Privet Drive for the rest of the month. "If they aren't home, then they don't have to worry about fights with 'that freak,'" he muttered under his breath. "Bastards."

"Harry's family went on vacation without him?" was the appalled response from Mr. Weasley. His mother's response was, "Ron! Language!" and an appalled look at her youngest son.

Realizing he had just screwed up big time, Ron tried to cover his mistake. "No! Not Lord Potter! Harri Potter, that girl in my year at Hogwarts. Lord Potter has a Penthouse and elves and stuff. The girl lives with her Muggle relatives and they really don't like her. They're always leaving her home while they go somewhere." Mr. Weasley frowned and, as Ron overheard him tell Mrs. Weasley later, the name Dursley sounded familiar to him for some reason.

Mrs. Weasley had taken quite the offense at Harri being left to her own devices for the rest of the month, "Who will look after her? Isn't she a Muggle-born? She can't live alone!" She paused in thought for a brief moment. "She can stay here until school starts, she can stay with Ginny."

Ginny, not surprisingly, objected, "Mum! It's my room! I don't want some strange girl I don't know in _my_ room! Especially if she's Ron's friend!"

As Harri later told him, he demonstrated the adage of 'Give a careless man enough rope and he will hang himself.' Before he could stop them the words popped out of Ron's mouth, "She can sleep in my room then, I don't care." As he later explained, he was a bit distracted, as his mum _had_ fixed his favorite meal for dinner.

He looked up at the sudden silence, not even chewing sounds could heard. "What? There's room for a second bed in my room," he added without thinking. That was the beginning of the rope.

Open mouths and stunned expressions surrounded him. He frowned, "It's no big deal if she stays in my room," he added, figuratively taking the rope and fashioning a noose out of it. "I mean, it's not as if I've never seen her naked or anything." And placed said noose around his neck.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY," bellowed his mother, "WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WITH THAT GIRL!"


	18. The Burrow

_Note: 7/1/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**18\. The Burrow**

"It was an accident!" exclaimed Ron, "I didn't do it on purpose!" he continued. His mother's face grew redder in fury. He frantically tried to think of what he could say that his promise to keep Harri's secrets wouldn't block. "She didn't mind!"

Mrs. Weasley wasn't having it. "HOW DO YOU _ACCIDENTALLY_ SEE A GIRL NAKED AT SCHOOL!"

Percy was staring at him disapprovingly; Ginny stared at her brother in open-mouthed surprise, outraged at him peeping at a naked girl.

The twins were jealous. Both were wide-eyed at Ron's revelation. They were fourteen, now, and _they_ hadn't even managed to see a girl naked, yet — little sisters running around sans diapers didn't count. Their limited snogging was usually in darkened broom-closets and nobody was ever completely unclothed, anyway. And trying to smuggle a girl into their beds in the Dorm was an exercise in futility. Someone else always seemed to be in their dorm room and would notice if they tried to close their bed-curtains with a witch inside with them. The thought that their ickle Firstie brother had seen a completely naked girl and they hadn't yet achieved such a feat was admirable! And inexcusable.

"Yes," prompted one of the twins.

"Tell us," said the other.

"How did you . . ."

". . . convince her to do that?"

"And you're both ickle Firsties," they concluded in chorus.

"SHUT IT YOU TWO," countered their mother.

"Sunbathing!" blurted out Ron. He remembered her wanting to sunbath by the lake but Hermione refused to let her strip because they were in sight of the castle. If Harri didn't care then, then it was okay to mention it now.

His mother was giving him the evil eye, standing arms crossed at the end of the table, staring down at him.

"You talked her into . . ."

". . . sunbathing naked?"

"Where at school . . ."

". . . can you do that . . ."

". . . without getting caught?"

"I SAID SHUT UP YOU TWO!"

All three boys gulped and stared at their very angry mother.

"Well, _Ronald_?" came the demand in a Voice of Doom, bringing a shade of relief to the twins that the focus was off them.

Oh, Merlin, he wasn't going to be able to help Harri. He'd be lucky if his mother didn't just skin him, roll him in salt, and bury him the garden.

"After exams the last week of school," he said quickly, desperately wanting to get this done. "One morning Nev and I were looking for her and couldn't find her."

"And _why_ were you looking for her?" His mother asked in the same tone as before, leaning forward slightly, arms crossed.

He stared up at her, eyes wide, frantically trying to think. "To make sure she was still okay after fighting Grave-robber."

That seemed to puzzle everyone. Shite, he hadn't told anyone about their adventure at the end of term. The Headmaster had asked them to tell no one about it as he said it would cause a panic if people thought Voldemort really wasn't dead. Harri had agreed, later telling them that if they told everyone about her killing Voldemort/Quirrell it would just get her all that much more attention which she didn't want.

But it wasn't a secret because they had told his dad and Mrs. Longbottom earlier that summer. Had dad not told mum?

"And who is Grave-robber?" the Voice of Doom demanded.

Stumbling over the words, Ron explained, looking desperately at his father, "You remember, dad, when Lord Potter told you about us helping him with that . . . ," he cut his eyes towards his brothers, "Stone? She helped us and we wanted to make sure she was okay. It was really scary and she's a girl, and . . . ," his voice trailed off.

His parents exchanged a look and nods, then the matron of the family turned back to her wayward son.

"_Don't try to sidetrack me_," the Voice of Doom was back, just not quite as emphatic as before, "_What happened with this . . . naked . . . girl?_"

Ron swallowed, "Well, uh, we, Neville and I, asked Hogwarts . . . a Hogwarts House-elf if he could find her for us. She was on the roof sunning herself, but we didn't know she was naked until we got there!" He gulped as his mother seemed to get even madder, nearby cups started vibrating. He added quickly, "Hermione was there, too!" His mother arched an eyebrow. "But she wasn't naked!" he blurted out, hoping to defuse his mother somewhat with the revelation that Harri wasn't the only girl there, "She was only topless." Oh Merlin, did he just say that aloud? He was sweating like a pig, and his mother didn't appear any calmer than before.

"You were staring at two naked girls?" Oops, his mother's voice had dropped an octave.

He tried to think of what he could say to tone down the threat level. Well, they were on the roof and could see for miles out across the lake and Forbidden Forest. "But the view was great!"

"I bet it was," murmured Percy, getting stunned stares from his family, and a growled, "_Percy_," from his mother. He startled and looked down.

The twins exchanged a glance, to Ron it was clear what they were thinking — how many other girls sunbathed on the roof naked on the roof? The twins nodded to each other, they clearly intended to check that fact out as soon as school started!

Mrs. Weasley did not miss the interaction between the twins. Without taking her eyes off Ron, she said, "And if I hear you two are peeping at girls sunbathing on the roof, I'll see you confined to your dormitory until you graduate!" They both gulped.

Mr. Weasley managed to appear both proud and disapproving of Ron at the same time.

"So," Mrs. Weasley said in a tone that promised difficult days ahead for the youngest Weasley boy. He shrank back on his chair as she stared at him. "Like a proper gentle-wizard you apologized and promptly left?" the voice of doom continued, implying any other course of action was unacceptable.

Ron swallowed guiltily, "Er, no?" He felt faint. Later, his brothers would tell him he was so pale his freckles looked like red lights on his face. "Hermione spoke up and said we'd get the exam results that evening and started asking us about what we thought our scores would be, and did the questions seem overly simple in spots, and how long our answers were . . . that girl is absolutely mental!"

"So," the voice of doom interrupted, "You stood there staring at two naked girls . . ."

"More likely drooling," put in one twin.

". . . by the bucket," added the other.

The matron of the family turned her eyes on the twins, "One more word from either of you and you'll be banned from your room for the rest of the summer! You can sleep outside in a tent."

The twins sat back in shock, eyes opening even wider than before. That was an unexpectedly effective threat. If they couldn't get in their room, they couldn't work on their pranks! That . . . that was playing dirty!

"Hermione wasn't naked, just topless!" Ron ineffectively defended himself. "She told us that in France all the girls go topless at the beaches." He didn't mention that she had told them that months before while running around topless in Harri's Clubroom. Nor would he mention that Harri was usually naked in the Clubroom, hence his bland response to possibly seeing her naked in his room should she share with him.

The twins perked up at that revelation. You didn't need to be a seer to know that they would soon be planning a parent-less visit to the shores of Britain's nearest neighbor.

"And?" Mrs. Weasley was not calmed down in the slightest.

Ron took an unsteady breath and shrugged, "After a couple of hours, we went to lunch." Then he added, desperately, "But nothing happened! We just talked!"

"And stared, I'm sure," Ron heard his sister mumble.

The family stared at him. He stared at his plate. He took a spoonful of his pudding.

"TO YOUR ROOM YOUNG MAN! EVERYONE ELSE — OUT!"

Ginny darted out the back door at a dead run, the twins headed to their sanctuary only a trifle slower. Percy managed a dignified walk that Ron ruined by bouncing off him as he tried to escape the kitchen with his skin intact.

"Now, Mollywobbles . . . ," the last two to leave heard as the kitchen door swung closed.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harriet was enjoying herself immensely. After finishing the rest of the house, she was now meticulously cleaning the cobwebs and dust from the rafters in the attic when she realized someone was approaching the front door. Normally she would have ignored them — the Dursleys didn't allow her to answer the door, they didn't want her freakishness to be on display to random people.

However, she was the only person at home now that the Dursleys had left. She hadn't known the Dursleys were gone until Monday. She had spent the weekend at the Penthouse and it was only when she went to the kitchen for breakfast that she found the note on the Kitchen table —_ Gone 'til school starts – VD_. As near as she could figure, they must have left Friday, a full week after her disastrous birthday.

Hedwig was more than happy to carry messages to her friends alerting them that Harri was Dursley-free for the rest of the month, and that in a few days she intended to move to the Penthouse. Appalled, they had reiterated their wishes that she could stay with one of them instead. Unfortunately, all their parents had already shot down that idea earlier in the summer. She'd still see them on the weekends as Lord Potter.

So, it was on Tuesday as she was enjoying her second day of Dursley freedom, that she was surprised to feel wizards coming to her front door. It was especially startling because it wasn't that long after dinner-time, and still not yet dark out. If Wizards were visiting, she expected them at night when Muggles were less likely to notice them.

She POPed to the front door, not wanting them to have to wait for someone to answer the door. She almost didn't wait for them to reach the door, but decided it might scare them to have her open the door before the lead wizard could knock. They were wizards after all and some had rather itchy wand hands, tending to curse first when startled.

She immediately recognized the man at the door, as well as his companions. It was Arthur Weasley, with Ron and his sister, Ginny. Behind them, incredibly, there was a car, an actual car, parked at the street! A wizard with a car? The sight stunned her silent for a moment. It was an old Ford Anglia, she recognized it from a TV show on old cars she had seen at the hotel late one night. Or was it early one morning?

She saw Ginny's jaw drop and her eyes pop wide open. Mr. Weasley blinked and blushed slightly. Ron winced and then sighed. He pantomimed grabbing his chest to Harri. Harri stared at him a moment, then looked down and realized she hadn't bothered to get dressed this morning. They could tell from her all-over tan that she did this frequently. Ron, of course, knew this from the weekend visits to the Penthouse.

She said, "Oh," then looked up, "Why don't you come in?" and stepped back letting them file past her. "If you'll wait a minute, I'll be right back." She closed the door and then charged up the stairs. As soon as she was in the hall out of their sight, she took a breath and snapped her fingers, instantly dressing and arranging her hair.

She took a calming breath and put Consequences in charge, then returned to the sitting-room where the Weasleys were waiting. She made sure to make a dignified and sedate entrance. Her Traditions teacher would have been proud of her recovery.

If something embarrassing happens, Wizard Traditions and Etiquette insist that one ignore it and pretend it never happened. It was her house, well the Dursleys, but what she did in it when they weren't home was her business. The visitors had arrived unannounced, so it was _their_ fault if they saw something _they_ found disturbing — not hers. The fact she chose to dress for them was a reflection of _her_ good manners to visitors. Similarly, Traditional Etiquette for the visitors meant that _they_ would never mention what _they_ had seen by their unexpected intrusion. Naturally, she expected them to mention things to their family, but never any specifics, nor any mention at all to anyone outside their family. It would be the height of bad manners to do so.

She knew that her display of Wizard Traditional Manners while she appeared to be merely a middle-class Muggle-born would impress Mr. Weasley. That it might provide another clue as to her identity did not occur to her.

"Sorry we didn't owl you beforehand," said Mr. Weasley, "but Molly was quite insistent that we do something immediately to help now that your relatives left you by yourself. She just didn't feel it was proper for someone Ron's age, and a witch at that, to live alone for most of a month. Who would fix your meals and make sure you got your Hogwarts' supplies?" He smiled while Ron nodded eagerly. Ginny merely stared at her, still stunned and somewhat offended at her greeting them nude at the door. "We're planning on going to Diagon Alley tomorrow, so you can go with us."

Harri didn't know, at first, what to think. This was completely unexpected. She had plenty of food in her trunk kitchen, and even if she couldn't cook, she had more than enough house-elves who would be happy to do that chore for her. And she could certainly handle getting her school supplies herself, she knew her way around the Alley as well as any adult. Of course, she couldn't tell any of that to Mr. Weasley. As far as he knew she was a clueless Muggle-born.

Then it hit her that they were actually _worried_ about her! She blinked a few times marveling that anyone would waste time worrying about a useless whore like her.

"So," the man continued, "Molly and I thought you might like to come stay at our place until school starts." Ron was nodding even more emphatically. Ginny was still staring at her. From her narrowed eyes, Harri had the distinct feeling that she wasn't nearly as happy with that parental decision as Ron. "It's no bother, really," he cajoled, "and Molly would appreciate another girl in the house to balance Ron and the boys." He was smiling broadly.

Harri frowned for a moment. She would actually prefer to remain alone. She was having fun learning to use her house-elf magic, and living with the Weasleys would curtail that considerably. Not to mention that staying with them would effectively remove any possibility of staying at the Penthouse, or even just going there at all. How would she and Ron explain her going there with him when they had never mentioned Harri being a friend of Harry's, unlike Neville and Hermione whom she knew he had to have mentioned frequently?

"Oh. No, thank you," she said carefully. "While that's a most gracious offer to someone you hardly know I couldn't impose on your goodwill like that. I assure you I can easily take care of myself. I can cook — there's plenty of food here — and I've been to Diagon Alley before by myself."

"Ah, well," he looked at her doubtfully and ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Molly would have me sleeping in the shed if I left you here alone," he said, "why not just get your things together and we'll get you settled in the Burrow in no time at all," he coaxed.

"Besides," he added, "Ron has said some interesting things about you and I know I speak for the whole family when I say we would love to get to know you better."

In other circumstances, her immediate reply to that last statement would be, "Lies! Lies! It's all lies I tell you! All the evidence is circumstantial." But she couldn't do that after starting with Traditional Etiquette. And she could clearly see that she was going to lose this argument. Mr. Weasley saw a twelve-year-old child struggling to act like an adult in the face of gross neglect from her so-called relatives. He didn't know she was an emancipated child with access to resources that dwarfed his own, that she had advisors with decades of experience at her beck and call — that she was the Lord of an Ancient and Noble House.

She could either bow to the inevitable, or explain everything right now and reveal a large portion of her secrets, if not all. She sighed. "As you wish. Thank you for your solicitude. Give me a few minutes to get my things packed." She headed up the stairs. Once in her room it was but a few moments for her elf-magic to gather and pack those few items that weren't already in her trunk. She left most of her Muggle clothes in the closet, but did pack several in case she needed them over the next school year.

She turned to where her owl was perched as she opened the bedroom window. "Okay, Hedwig, I'll meet you at the Weasleys' home. Is that all right with you? You can find them, right?" The bird hopped off the perch onto her shoulder and nipped her ear lightly. _Of course, I can find my way to the Weasleys. I'm an exceptional owl, after all._ She gave a soft _hoot _goodbye and took off out the window. Harri stared out after her. Was that her imagination making up words for the feeling she got from Hedwig? Or had Hedwig actually said that to her? She could talk to snakes, was she learning how to talk to owls? On the other hand, she did spend a lot of time during the week talking to Hedwig.

Shaking her head ruefully, Harri closed the window and added the owl's perch and cage to her trunk bedroom. She used her trunk's shrink function and put the small card-deck-sized result in her shoulder bag. One last look around the room and she headed back downstairs.

The Weasleys were examining the sitting-room when she walked in. Mr. Weasley was just replacing one picture on the mantle and reaching for another. She caught the edge of his frown as he turned but it disappeared as he smiled at her. Ron was sitting in Vernon's chair and wrinkling his nose as he watched his sister flip through _What's on TV_. Apparently, he thought it was a book of some kind and didn't understand why his sister would want to look at a book during vacation when she didn't have to do so. Harri and Hermione would have to work a bit more on that attitude when the next term started.

"I am ready," she announced.

"Very good, children," he said to Ron and Ginny, "Let's go."

Harri expected to sit in the back, as she never rode in the front with the Dursleys. Ron startled her when he followed Ginny into the back seat and pulled the seat back leaving her the only choice of being the passenger beside their father. Cautiously, expecting him to yell at her for something, she sat down and closed the car door.

"Right, then," said Mr. Weasley as he climbed behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Minutes later they were driving down the road. Mr. Weasley pushed a button on the dash and after driving a bit farther the car gently rose into the air.

She stared out the passenger window at the ground rapidly receding below her and then turned to Mr. Weasley.

"Not to worry," said the man, "the car's spelled to be invisible, with a _Notice-Me-Not_ that starts a few moments before we lift off the ground. The Muggles will never see a thing. Just sit back and enjoy."

Harri practically glued her nose to the window watching everything below them. The only thing better would have been to be doing it on a broom. She noticed Ron and Ginny were equally distracted.

The house looked as if it had been cobbled together, added to, and expanded at random and whimsy. It looked as if it would fall down at any moment. The yard was cluttered and disorganized, and definitely not neat. It was as different from #4 Privet Drive as it was possible for house to get. "It's perfect," Harri said as the car gently landed.

Life at the Weasley household was decidedly different from what she knew. First, nobody was called any awful names. Second, nobody was spoiled rotten while another was ignored. Third, the parents actually _talked_ with the children instead of ordering them around like servants. Fourth, the children actually talked to each _other_, and while names were called, they weren't meant in cruel manner but were teasing. And the victims gave just as good as they got. Fifth, nobody was treated as a punching bag for the sheer amusement of hitting someone. And sixth, neat and orderly were apparently words nobody in the Weasley family had ever heard. Things were forever being placed where they shouldn't and time lost hunting them.

Harri found the Weasley kitchen clock fascinating and she pestered Mrs. Weasley something fierce to teach her the spells and charms that went into it. She fully intended to make one of her own with names for her friends so she always knew they were safe, and instantly knew when they weren't.

The twins were the same at home as they were at school, but they spent more time working on their pranks. Ron no longer had schoolwork to distract him from his two loves in life: quidditch and chess. Percy was, well, Percy, a stuck-up humourless prat. However, instead of focusing on studying, as he did in school, at home he holed up in his room and spent an inordinate amount of time writing and sending owl letters. This was, it seemed, unusual behavior as the twins and Ron remarked on it several times. His fingers appeared permanently ink-stained.

The only new person to Harri was Ginny, the little sister. She seemed quite put out with Ron for being such good friends with Harry Potter and yet refusing to tell her anything about him. She was constantly badgering him, "Ron, what does he like to do?" "Ron, do you think he'd like this dress?" "Ron, is he as handsome as the books say?" or even "Harry is my hero, darn it! You should tell me everything you know about him so I can marry him!" She wanted to know what he liked, his favorite foods, how she could meet him . . . . She was especially put out that Ron had refused to let her join him when he went to visit the famous Harry Potter at his penthouse, and that he never told her what they did beside 'stuff.'

And her room! While Ron's room had every available wall space taken with posters of the Chudley Cannon players, her room was a shrine to the mythical Harry Potter created by the magical book publishers and magazines.

Ginny was, Harri decided, a fan-girl. "She's more in love with the idea of Harry Potter than the actual person," Harri groused to Ron, who readily agreed.

"God," the Boy-Now-A-Girl-Who-Lived added, "if that's how the girls would treat me if I were really a boy, for the first time I think I'm glad I'm a girl!"

Ron just laughed.

"I know the secrets going to get out someday," they both knew it was inevitable, no secret like that would last forever, "at least all the fan-girls will lose interest — well, _most_ of them."

Ron gave her a puzzled look. Apparently, he hadn't run into the idea of girls who liked only girls yet.

She continued, "And the fact that I, a slip of a girl, defeated the worst Dark Lord since Grindelwald will intimidate the boys. Not that I actually _did_ anything! Whatever happened was my mother's doing, I'm sure. After all, what could a tiny toddler do against a full-grown and super-powerful wizard?"

Harri, it turned out, was to share a room with Ginny, who was clearly not pleased with the black-haired girl intruding into her private and personal space. However, when Harri showed her the trunk bedroom and offered to sleep there instead, the girl quickly bargained a trade. Ginny would use the trunk bedroom while Harri could enjoy her bedroom.

Harri didn't quite understand why Ginny would want a rather large, empty, sterile bedroom when hers had so many neat things and demonstrated her family's love with things they had provided. Ginny's room might not be shiny and new, and look as if it were a showroom, but it was lived-in, welcoming, and homey, and filled with the things that clearly demonstrated her family loved her. The only down side for Harri were all the Harry Potter posters, but when the lights were out you couldn't see them, and the comforting smells of home cooking, candles, and a hint of love pervaded the room.

Harri was able to help explain many things to Mr. Weasley about Muggle items once the adult explained his position in The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. It was weird to be treated as an expert, with every word regarded as undeniable fact. Quite a change from the Dursleys and school where everyone belittled and challenged everything she said.

Mrs. Weasley was every bit as Harri had seen at the train station, hovering over her children like a mother hen, threatening and complimenting her chicks by turn, as needed, to get them to do what she needed done and to keep them in line. She was as unlike Aunt 'Tunia as it was possible to get while still being a woman. Her hugs were almost stifling. Harri knew the woman meant to be comforting, but she couldn't help but rigidly stand in the embrace as unpleasant feelings of other embraces from adults churned up.

Wednesday morning arrived bright and early. Neville's grandmother's instructions on how to use the floo came in quite handy and Harri barely stumbled as she arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. A few minutes later, they met Hermione on the steps of Gringotts. Ron, Hermione, and Harri had planned the previous weekend to meet there today. Neville's grandmother, unfortunately, had made the decision that she and Neville would go on a different day.

Harri felt dreadful when she saw how little was in the Weasley vault, and she felt worse when they went to her vault. She opened her shoulder bag and just scooped galleons into it. With the automatic shrinking charm on it, that was a _lot_ of galleons. She couldn't fill it up, she had to leave room for any purchases she made today. She then filled several of the bags she had purchased in Hogesmeade and put those in her robe's pockets. She wondered how many galleons she could slip into Mrs. Weasley's handbag before the woman noticed.

Out on the steps of the bank they made plans to split up. During the confusion that was a Weasley family shopping meeting (that is, mother admonishing the twins while simultaneously keeping Ginny and Ron from wandering off while her husband was ignoring everyone else in favor of talking to the Grangers), Harri managed to drop six galleons into the woman's handbag. The eventual decision, dictated by Mrs. Weasley, was to split up and get together again in an hour at Flourish and Blotts Bookstore.

Visiting the various stores was fun for Harri, she used the opportunity to buy birthday gifts for her friends, until they finally went to the book store. That was a disaster and a half.

Harri remembered Ron telling her the previous weekend that his mother almost swooned at seeing that Gilderoy Lockhart's books were on the school's required book list. He was her favorite author and, although she denied it, her current heartthrob. She was less enthused when she realized it meant they would have to buy five full sets of the books, causing a major financial quandary for the family.

Discovering that her idol was actually at the bookstore and signing autographs simply made her day, and helped cushion the blow of spending so much money there. Ginny and Hermione were equally taken with the handsome man. Harri took one look at him and knew he was a charlatan. He wasn't a fighter who had written a series of books that others found interesting — he was a salesman first and foremost, interested only in selling books.

He was like many salesmen she had met in the hotel. He was a smooth talker and slanted everything he said to sell his product, and make himself look good while making his competition — anyone else — look bad.

Unlike the salesmen she had met, though, he focused on women as his target. He had that sex appeal that he could turn on and off like a water faucet. She watched as he easily talked women into purchasing more than they had intended, fattening his wallet while thinning theirs, and then they _thanked_ him for it. The men were hostile, many looked like they wanted nothing more than to hex the man out of sight. The smart ones, though, knew better than to contradict their wives or girlfriends. They ponied up the money for the purchases with as much grace as they could muster while scowling at the smiling wizard who had already moved on to his next sucker, er, fan-girl.

The only way he had accomplished his adventures would be if he were a ghost-writer. (Heh, there was a thought — were ghost-writers in the magical world really ghosts?) The real adventurer couldn't write a novel. He was either rubbish at telling a story, too disorganized to complete the project, didn't want to be bothered, or too rough and gruff to sell his own books.

And to top it all off, Mr. Weasley got into a fist-fight with Draco Malfoy's father! It took Hagrid to break up the fight. Harri was more than a little surprised at Mr. Malfoy for allowing himself to get into a fight. Her understanding of Wizard Etiquette had at least two points where he could have withdrawn before things escalated. As an obviously refined wizard, he had to have studied etiquette until he knew it backwards and forwards. Instead, he had deliberately provoked Mr. Weasley into starting the fisticuffs. What had he hoped to gain?

One good outcome of the minor brawl was that Harri managed to slip the store clerk tallying the Weasley purchases a handful of galleons with a whispered, "If this is insufficient, send the bill to Tonks &amp; Tonks Solicitors. Put down: Attention Harriet." Mrs. Weasley never noticed. And Harri dumped another three galleons into the woman's handbag.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The rest of the month passed quickly. Harri learned that Ginny considered nudity all right, but _only_ in the bathtub or shower, and only when you were alone. Harri thought that was rather boring. And Harri liked the all-over tan she had managed to get this summer from sunbathing at the Penthouse and wanted to keep it. It would disappear fast enough once they returned to Hogwarts.

Oddly, though, whenever Harri and Ron went somewhere the twins or Ginny would always tag along. Sometimes the Weasley's neighbor, Luna Lovegood, would join them, as well. She was a bit potty, but likeable and fun once you got used to her odd outlook on life.

After Ron's embarrassed explanation of how he had managed to change his mother's mind about Harri staying over as Harri, she understood. Harri and Ron were to be chaperoned at all times!

With the twins, Percy, Ron, Ginny, and Harry, they could put together a quite fun game of half-field quidditch. No snitches were used, so Harri got to try being a Beater, Chaser, and Keeper. She decided she preferred being Seeker. Percy was a decent player, it turned out, although they did have to drag him kicking and screaming out of his room more than once to get him playing. She noticed that the Weasley mail owl, Errol, was looking a bit ragged with all that flying, especially after seeing him plow exhaustedly into the mashed potatoes one evening, so she offered Percy the use of Hedwig. Hedwig appreciated the exercise almost as much as Percy liked the quickness of her deliveries. Errol appreciated collapsing for several days.

Mrs. Weasley was surprised to find a new door in Ginny's room. That entailed a thorough inspection of Harri's trunk by both parents. The twins bargained with Harri to use her potions room in exchange for absolutely no pranks on her and covering for her when she disappeared several times a week for "personal" reasons.

While they were curious where she went, and how, the lure of the potions room and what they could do that normally they could not was simply too good to give up. Not to mention that Harri's potion room was very well stocked with things they normally could not find or afford. Replacing the stocks they used was a small price for Harri to pay to continue meeting with her tutor and Sirius.

Naturally, they conveniently "forgot" to tell their mother about the deal. They randomly set off explosions and bangs in their room to keep her from guessing that they were spending all their spare time in the trunk. They even started sleeping in there to maximize their access.

Harri discovered why Ron ate so fast — it was to keep his brothers from slipping pranks into his food. The longer food remained on his plate, the more likely it was to be tampered, er, "experimented" with by the twins. And part of the reason he ate so much was because his body had to expend extra magical energy to cope with the pranks. From meal to meal Ron changed hair and skin colours, with occasional physical changes as well. He usually didn't even notice the colour changes. None of the pranks were truly harmful, but sometimes they were annoying. To everyone else they were amusing or downright hilarious.

Ginny, she found, had escaped from the prank trials by developing a vicious bat-bogey hex. Harri only saw it once, but that was enough. It took only a tiny bit of coaxing to get Ginny to teach it to her. She shared an advanced locking charm so Ginny could expect a bit more privacy when she wanted that extra assurance.

Harri managed to sneak a few new clothes into Ginny's closet and dresser. She POPed to Privet Drive to retrieve a few of the clothes she had left there. She found it depressing to discover that the year-younger girl could fit into Harri's new clothes without any alterations required.

After a week and a half, she heard Mrs. Weasley mention to Mr. Weasley that the house seemed neater and cleaner than usual, even with Harri as a guest. The clutter remained, but less of it appeared negligently dropped on furniture or the floor — both of which were looking better than they had in years. The twins' room, especially, seemed neater and cleaner than ever, despite the bangs and explosions that occasionally rocked their room during the day. Mr. Weasley suggested, "Maybe the boys are finally learning to pick up after themselves, dear." Mrs. Weasley snorted in disbelief.

Harri snickered to herself. She'd been practicing her house-elf magic when no one was looking. She hadn't had many opportunities, though, as it seemed that someone was almost always looking. And nobody had yet noticed that the floo powder in the flowerpot in the kitchen was stuffed to the brim. Each parent thought the other had topped off their supply. She figured that by the time school started the house would be almost up to the level of cleanliness house-elves considered as the bare minimum standard — at least as far as dust and dirt were concerned.

That Friday as they were having breakfast, which Mrs. Weasley steadfastly refused to let Harri help prepare, the mail owl arrived. Moments later, Mr. Weasley exclaimed, "My word! Would you look at this!"

The Daily Prophet headline proudly proclaimed:

.

**_Nimbus Donates Quidditch Brooms to Hogwarts!_**

_In a joint press conference with Comet Trading Company (see below), Nimbus Racing Brooms Company yesterday announced that they are donating twenty-eight of their newest brooms to the Hogwarts Quidditch teams to commemorate the introduction of their new line of Harry Potter Signature Brooms!_

_Negotiations for the new line have been ongoing since January, culminating in this historic agreement between the famous Boy-Who-Lived and the premier Nimbus Racing Brooms Company._

_"__This donation will bring a level of professionalism to Quidditch play at Hogwarts that has never been seen before. All four House teams will have the same brooms, meaning it is up to the individual teams' talent to win a game and not the fact that one team might have inferior brooms," said Devlin Whitehorn, owner of Nimbus Racing Brooms. "It will also give the players a taste of what it is like to ride a professional Quidditch broom."_

_The Harry Potter Signature Brooms will feature the Nimbus 2000 with slight tweaks to give it a bit faster acceleration, a bit better speed, easier handling, and more comfort for long games, according to Mr. Whitehorn. Other brooms in the Nimbus broomstick lineup will also feature the Harry Potter Signature Broom treatment of better handling and more comfort, not just their flagship product, the Nimbus 2000._

_"__The current Hogwarts broomsticks are just disgraceful" Mr. Whitehorn added, "I visited the school and was appalled that they even tried to play Quidditch with the antiques they had in the broomstick shed. This donation will give the students a chance to experience the benefits of the premier broomstick on the market today — the Nimbus 2000."_

.

"Cor!" "Blimey!" "Ace!" were the reaction of the boys. The twins were gleeful, they could hardly wait to get to Hogwarts. The rest of the article went into details about how the Hogwarts brooms were old and in desperate need of repair, as well as getting reactions from both current and former Hogwarts students. Harri was hard-pressed to restrain herself from breaking out in a broad smile amid the surprise and joy evident on the quidditch players' faces.

Ron, after the initial surprised stare at her, kept sneaking looks at her and smiling. Mr. Weasley, she noticed, was looking back and forth between her and Ron, and then from the twins to her. She did her best to mimic the others enthusiasm and surprise at the announcement.

Just below that article was another:

.

**_Comet Trading Company Replaces Hogwarts Broomsticks!_**

_In the same press conference with Nimbus Racing Brooms, Comet Trading Company announced that they were replacing all the Broomsticks in the Hogwarts Broomstick Shed to commemorate their new line of Harry Potter Brooms. The new line will provide brooms for all ages, from six months to a hundred and sixty years. "These brooms put the emphasis on safety and comfort for the average wizard or witch," said Mr. Basil Horton, co-founder of the company, "rather than acceleration and speed as the racing broomsticks my good friend Mr. Whitehorn produces. And our new line will be available at very reasonable prices designed to fit every budget."_

_"__Mr. Whitehorn relayed his horror to me," said Mr. Randolph Keitch, the other owner of Comet Trading Company, "at the state of the broomsticks used at Hogwarts to train young wizards and witches in how to fly. The broomsticks on hand are missing twigs, have severely bent twigs, have faulty and failing charms, and are quite dangerous to the rider."_

_Mr. Horton added, "I spoke with Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts Healer, and she told me that every year there were injuries to first-year students because of faulty and malfunctioning broomsticks."_

_When contacted, the Hogwarts Healer said, "It constantly amazes me that we didn't have any fatalities because of those ancient excuses for broomsticks," confirming the opinions of the owners of the broomstick companies._

_"__These new broomsticks will make it easier and safer for young wizards and witches at Hogwarts," said Mr. Keitch, "not to mention the peace-of-mind it will give parents, knowing that their children aren't risking their lives on broomsticks that were obsolete when their parents attended the school!"_

_"__And parents wanting to give their children an early start will be able to buy in confidence knowing that their child's broom has the latest safety features on the market," said Mr. Horton. "We are even introducing a special upgrade program where the safety charms can be updated every year for a small nominal fee!"_

.

The next page had a full-page editorial from Rita Skeeter demanding to know how the Headmaster of Hogwarts had missed this obvious threat to the safety of the students. That was followed by a rant on why he never requested the funds to equip the students properly. She concluded by wondering what other outdated, worn-out, and obsolete items at the school were endangering the lives of the wizarding public's children. And asking if Albus Dumbledore was still qualified to be Headmaster in view of these deficiencies.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri couldn't get away with heading for the Penthouse whenever she wanted, so instead she and Ron gave the excuse that Harry Potter was on vacation and had Neville and Hermione come to the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley wasn't about to let Ron go anywhere with Harri where she couldn't check on them at any time.

It wasn't as much fun — they had to keep an eye out for adults watching them — but they managed to enjoy themselves anyway. Being able to retreat to the trunk rooms during rainy days helped relieve what would be intolerable crowding. That and once they were settled in the trunk, Harri could have the Potter elves POP them to the Penthouse where their options were greatly increased.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Harri had to change her twice weekly appointments with her Wizarding Traditions and Etiquette instructor to only once a week. She was able to get Ron to cover for her. She used a twice weekly long walk around the property as her excuse. Ron stayed in the House with his mother to keep her from thinking anything improper might be occurring. The second walk was so she could still meet with Sirius once a week.

She was beginning to relax around him, and his stories about her parents were delightful. He had changed several times to his animagus and she was pleased to note that her ring correctly reacted and notified her that a wizard-animal was within range each time he changed. Her friends were greatly relieved, and impressed, to learn the rings really did work.

Her solicitor had mentioned that Sirius was living at the old Black Mansion. Harri decided she wanted to see it, where she would have grown up if he had taken care of her. He initially opposed the request, calling it a depressing awful place — which made her wonder why he was staying there. Surprisingly, her solicitor agreed! She finally talked him into taking her to his home at 12 Grimmuald Place.

Once he had said yes he had warned her, "My mother's portrait is in the entry and not only is she a horrible shrew, she also hates me with a passion. Almost as much as I hate her. And there doesn't appear to be a way to remove the painting, the sticking charm can't be broken.

"If anyone makes a noise in the hall and wakes her up, she starts screaming and carrying on. The only way to shut her up is to close the curtains and hold them closed until she stops. It takes a minute or two." He made a face as if he had smelled something terrible. "I've done everything I can think of, from burning and blasting hexes to silencing spells, the house magics stop them all. I even tried making that spot a window or doorway, but that wall is a load-bearing wall and holds the house up. The magics won't let me penetrate or remove it without destroying most of the house." He paused and ran his hand through his hair. "Merlin, I hate that woman!"

She was not impressed with the shabby neighborhood when the three of them first apparated into the yard. The house itself did not look much better, but the reassuring look Mrs. Tonks gave her helped overcome her suspicions.

Sirius touched the door with his hand — there was no doorknob — and then ushered them inside with the whispered warning, "Careful, remember, be quiet in the entry way."

Naturally, she had no sooner stepped inside than she tripped over what appeared to be an umbrella stand! Immediately, the curtains on a portrait further in the hall slammed apart. A woman began screeching the most horrible things, "What trash have you brought in today you useless . . . ."

Sirius lunged forward and grabbed the curtains struggling to close them. Simultaneously, a house-elf appeared in the hall, "Disappointing vile master has returned with blood-traitor cousin and mud-blood and blood-traitor spawn." His enormous eyes flicked rapidly between the three of them, coming to a surprised stop on Harri.

Before he could say anything more, Sirius, holding the curtains closed with both hands, screamed, "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU VILE PIECE OF SHITE!" The house-elf POPed out immediately.

The girl disguised as a boy hurriedly followed her solicitor down the hall. Several hectic, and noisy, minutes later, they were in the kitchen.

"Merlin! I wish I could silence that . . . that bi-" Sirius started as he flung himself into a chair.

"Language, Sirius, language," his cousin interrupted, grinning.

"Humph," was his response, "You don't have to live it."

Harri looked at him curiously, "Have you tried setting it on fire with a simple match?"

Sirius stared at her, mouth open, then leapt to his feet and charged out of the room. For a several minutes, there was inarticulate screaming from both the portrait and Sirius. He slumped back in a moment later, sighing heavily. "Nice thought, but I forgot there's a fire suppression enchantment on the walls."

"Turpentine?"

"What?"

"It's what Muggle painters use to clean their brushes and to remove paint from stubborn surfaces. You can get it at any Muggle hardware store. And if that doesn't work, how about just painting it over with white paint?"

"I'll be right back," Sirius declared, and again ran out of the room.

Harri looked at her solicitor, and they both started giggling. When they stopped, Harri sighed sadly as her mood changed. "It must be terrible to know your mother hates you. About the only way I survived was believing that my parents must have loved me. From what I've been told by their friends, and from what I've seen of the family pictures, that seems to be true."

"Sirius had a hard childhood," Mrs. Tonks explained. "His father and mother had exceedingly high standards for him. When he didn't follow exactly the plans they had prepared for him, they tried to force him. It became very bitter on both sides. It only worsened when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. Then he became a teenager and everything fell apart. He finally moved out. He moved in with your father's family. Your father's father officially adopted him not much later, and he lived with them until he got his own apartment after graduating."

This information stunned her. Not only was Sirius her godfather, he was her uncle! He _was_ a part of her family! Why wasn't he staying at the Penthouse?

Harri looked around the kitchen. Used to the spotless condition of her Penthouse, she was astonished at how messy it was. Standing, she wandered to the hall and looked around. The hall and the sitting room across from the kitchen was just as dirty. She peeked in the Dining room to see that it was the same. She had to restrain herself from using her elf magic to clean.

She turned back to see Andromeda watching her. "Why?" Harri asked, waving an arm at the mess.

The woman gave a wry and sad smile, "It's Kreacher, Sirius' house-elf, he's not well. He isn't really sane. When ordered to clean, he makes a desultory effort as long as you watch him. When you stop, he disappears and nothing more gets done." She looked at the pile of pans, pots, and dishes on the counter and sighed. "Sirius won't let him cook because he says Kreacher would poison him."

Harri returned to her chair and they sat quietly, each lost in her own thoughts.

With a bang and a crash from the front door, they knew Sirius was back. The portrait of Mrs. Black began screaming insults. Moments later, the shrieking suddenly stopped, followed by a triumphant barking laugh, "HA!"

Harri was out of her chair in a flash and down the hall, Andromeda closely behind. Sirius was cackling madly with a rag in one hand and gallon container with _Turpentine_ in fancy script written on it. He was swinging his arms underhand with the clear intent of splashing as much of the liquid on the painting as he could manage.

"YOU WOULDN'T DARE!" screamed the portrait.

"STOP!" yelled Harri.

The man turned suddenly at her shout, splashing turpentine on the floor and lower part of the wall. "What?" he asked frowning distractedly, still intent on eradicating his hated mother.

"Wait!" she continued, coming up beside him and looking at the woman in the painting. There was a smudge on the lower corner that matched the colors on the now-discarded rag on the floor. The portrait was staring in horror at a drop that had landed on her painting beside the frame. The drop was slowly sliding down the edge. It started as white but quickly became a trail of muddy colors that dripped from the frame to the floor.

"Don't do that," she said, Consequences coming to the fore, "not all at once, at least." Harri grinned maliciously at the painting. Sirius, looked at her, blinking, confused.

The woman in the painting was speechless, looking from her damaged edge to the two people standing in the hall.

"Wouldn't it be better," she explained, "to make her hold her tongue, slowly erasing the painting, an inch at a time, every time she says something you don't like?" His face slowly cleared. "Stretching out your revenge over days, weeks, or even months?" The man was beginning to smile. "Just imagine how much she'll hate being 'nice' to all the mud-bloods, half-bloods, and even Muggles you bring in for the _sole_ purpose of tormenting her. The perfect revenge for what she did to you."

They were both ginning madly, now. "Yes," he said slowly, staring at the portrait who was staring back, horrified at the fate described.

Andromeda was looking back and forth between them, her expression carefully blank.

"You wouldn't dare," the image of his mother whispered.

Sirius didn't even reply, he just held up the open Turpentine container.

"You heard the young man," he said a minute later as the portrait stared at the can in silence. "From now on I want to see those famous traditional Black manners given to everyone who comes in that door, not just pure-bloods!" He pointed to the front door. "Every disagreeable word you say will result in a piece of you going away, forever!"

He chuckled darkly, enjoying this far too much, "And remember, your magic memory of who you are is embedded in that paint. The more I erase, the less you become. You'll be able to _feel_ yourself losing things." His face turned dark, "Just as I did in Azkaban.

"Do we have an understanding?"

The portrait gave a small, silent nod.

Sirius grabbed the curtains and slammed them closed and headed up the hall. Harri and Andromeda followed him. Harri glanced back to see the house-elf picking up the rag and looking up at the closed curtains with a desolate expression.

They returned to the kitchen in silence. Sirius suddenly turned and hugged Harri before she could dodge. "Thank you," he said. "You may have just saved my sanity." Feeling how rigid the boy was in his arms, he let go and stepped back. "I was considering burning the house down."

He turned away as he asked, "Would you like some tea?"

At their relieved _yeses_, he picked up a kettle from the counter, rinsed it out with an _aguamenti_ spell, then refilled it. A second wave and the pot was full of boiling water. Moments later, he placed three cups of tea on the table.

Harri squirmed in her chair. Sirius was smiling at her and practically exuded pride.

"What's the story with Kreacher?" she finally blurted out, trying to change the subject.

Sirius' happy expression vanished, replaced by a scowl. "That fowl thing has always been a thorn in my side. I hate him as much as he hates me. He's been especially bad since I returned here as House Lord." His scowl darkened, "The only one he got along with was Regulus, my worthless Death Eater brother. He practically worshiped him. That repulsive elf does exactly what I tell him to do and nothing more, muttering insults under his breath the whole time."

This ran contrary to everything Harri knew about house-elves. Like Dobby, something was seriously wrong with this house elf.

"And, as you can see," Sirius waved his arm around the room, "He's rubbish at cleaning."

Harri sat back on her chair, considering. Slowly, she said, "I know house-elves." She and Hermione had had extensive discussions with the elves at House Potter this summer. "They _never_ do anything without a reason. There is something _wrong_ with that elf. No," she paused to think a moment, the adults watching her curiously.

She had accidentally given Pipsy conflicting orders this summer and the poor creature had acted quite confused, not knowing which order took precedence, sometimes doing the first and sometimes the second. And sometimes, doing neither. "There is something _making_ the elf behave this way," she concluded firmly. She looked other to Sirius, "Call him."

Sirius shook his head, but said, "Kreacher!"

With a loud POP the house elf appeared, "Vile master has called Kreacher," he muttered, "Half-blood and blood traitors still disgrace the house with their loathsome presence."

"KREACHER," yelled Sirius.

"Stop!" yelled Harri.

Sirius halted whatever he was about to say and stared at the boy.

"Kreacher," she said, addressing the elf directly, "what is wrong?"

"Vile half-blood is asking Kreacher a question," the elf muttered. "Revolting half-blood is not Kreacher's master. Kreacher does not have to answers disgusting creature." The elf pointedly looked in another direction.

"KREACHER!" roared Sirius, "YOU WILL . . . ."

"STOP, SIRIUS!" yelled Harri. "Just tell him to answer my questions."

Grumbling angrily, swearing under his breath — Harri picked up a few interesting new swear words while Mrs. Tonks said, "Language Sirius, watch your language!" — Sirius said, "Kreacher, you will obey Harry here as if I myself were commanding you, _understand_? That is a _direct_ order!"

"Kreacher understands Kreacher must obey hateful filthy half-blood just as if detestable master gave order," came the sullen response.

She studied the glowering elf. None of the House elves at Potter House would dare to have that attitude or say such things to family.

"This house is filthy, Kreacher, what have you been doing instead?"

Startled at her question, Kreacher gave a quick look over his shoulder to the hall, "Working," came the surly response.

She frowned, "On what?"

He stared at the floor, although she noticed he half-turned his head away towards the hall for an instant.

Taking a stab in the dark, she asked, "Have you been told to do something and not tell anyone else about it?"

Kreacher gave her a startled look. He did not answer.

"Lord Black, as Lord of the House Black, order Kreacher to tell you what he does not want to tell you what he has been ordered to do."

Shrugging, Sirius complied.

An anguished scream came from the elf and he fell to the floor kicking and screaming incoherently.

"Kreacher! STAND AND DO AS I SAY!"

Reluctantly, the cursing elf slowly stood. Haltingly, fighting every word forced out of his mouth, he said, "I . . . must . . . destroy . . . the . . . locket."

"What locket?"

Silence.

Harri spoke up, "Get the locket, Kreacher. We will not take it from you."

Looking absolutely furious, knowing that no matter what she said, Lord Black could take the locket from him at any time, but having no choice, Kreacher POPed out. Seconds later, he returned with something tightly held in his hand.

"Show us," came the command from Sirius.

Grudgingly, slowly, the elf opened his hand to reveal a golden locket on a chain.

They all leaned closer to examine it.

"Set it on the table," Sirius commanded.

"We'll give it back to you," promised Harri.

Resentfully, clearly fighting the command, Kreacher slowly placed the locket on the table.

Harri reached out to pick up the locket, but Sirius stopped her.

"Wait a minute, let's check to see if it's cursed," he said.

An incantation and swish later, they all recoiled as the spell caused the locket to turn almost completely black before returning to its normal golden self.

"Yep, it's a Dark object, all right," said Sirius. They all looked at the elf curiously.

Harri asked, "Who told you to destroy this?"

Bitterly, the elf complied, "Good Master Regulus," you could almost hear the capitals on the words, "ordered me to destroy it before he died."

"Regulus!" Sirius sat back in his chair, stunned.

"Tell us what happened, how Regulus found this locket," ordered Harri.

At the end of his tale of Voldemort's callousness, and Regulus' redemption and death, the heartbroken elf concluded, "Nothing Kreacher tried worked. Kreacher stabbed it, Kreacher beat it, Kreacher threw it in the oven for days, Kreacher tried acids from the potion stores, nothing hurts it."

They contemplated the locket in silence.

"Sirius?"

"Yes, Harry?" Sirius said distractedly.

"What are the most destructive things you can think of?"

"Huh. Dragonfire comes to mind first. Not easy to do though, you can't exactly go up to one and say, 'Excuse me, would you mind trying to melt this, please?'" He thought a few minutes. "I've heard that Basilisk venom will eat anything except specially charmed glass. Horribly expensive, though. Don't know how much we would need. A drop would cost galleons. An ounce would cost thousands."

"_Fiendfyre_," suggested Andromeda.

"That's doable, but extremely difficult to control. And we need somewhere where there's nothing else around. No deserts are within apparition range."

"Mid-air?" suggested Harri. "There's nothing to burn up there." She paused a moment. "We go up high over the ocean," she continued, "suspend the locket with a spell and then cast the . . . _Fiendfyre_?" she looked at Andromeda to make sure she had the name right, "at it. If you lose control of the spell, where will it go for fuel to sustain it?"

An hour later, the four of them were back, a slightly flattened glob of gold on the table before them. Kreacher was staring at it, disbelieving, almost, that they had succeeded.

"Well," said Sirius, "That was interesting. Any idea what that black smoke was? It certainly wasn't from any spell I know!"

Mrs. Tonks said, "I don't know, but I do know that was a face we saw in the smoke, and whatever it was sure screamed like it was alive. Spells don't scream when you destroy them. Not even inferi."

Harri picked up the cold metal remains and examined it. "Sirius, would you make a hole right here," she pointed, "about an eighth of an inch in diameter?"

Sirius shrugged and handed it back to her a moment later with a hole drilled through.

Harri turned to the house elf, "Kreacher, would you get a rugged gold chain that will fit through this hole?" Moments later, she was threading the chain through the hole.

She held out the necklace, "Kreacher, would you like this as a remembrance of your former Master?"

As he took it, wonder and delight on his face, he said, "You, you would give Kreacher this?"

She flicked her wand out, "I swear that I will never take this from you without your complete and uncoerced permission. So mote it be." She turned to Sirius and lowered her head slightly while raising her eyebrows. It took him a moment to understand. Sighing, he repeated what she had said, adding that he would also not have anyone _else_ take it from the elf.

Stunned, Kreacher just looked at them both.

"Well," Harri said, rubbing her hands together, "Now that that is taken care of, don't you think it's time to make the Black house look respectable again, Kreacher?"

Kreacher looked up at her from admiring the golden necklace resting against his chest, then looked around the room frowning. He gasped, and flung himself at the counter and started cleaning the dishes like a madman. The others watched, astonished.

Sirius was distracted. He kept shaking his head and repeating his brother's name to himself while staring at the working house-elf. By mutual agreement, they decided that today's eventful visit was over. Sirius would need some time to come to grips with his new understanding of his brother.

After Mrs. Tonks had disapparated Harri and herself back to the Penthouse, she looked over to the girl and asked, "Why did you stop him from destroying his mother's portrait? Your suggestion to Sirius was rather Dark." Not to mention completely opposite from the compassion shown to a lowly elf regarding the locket. Not condemning her, just curious.

Harri looked up at the woman, "Because someday he would regret destroying that portrait. This way, if she modifies her behavior she will remain a part of his family. If she doesn't, it will be good therapy for him and a way to work off his repressed aggression from his childhood."

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Finally, September first rolled around. Naturally, Harri and Ginny were ready only a few minutes after waking. Harri pretended to use her wand to help Ginny pack while actually using elf spells to do it. She then put it just inside her trunk bedroom, closed her trunk up, shrunk it down, and put it in her shoulder bag. They went outside to stay out of the way of the panic inside. It seemed none of the Weasleys knew how to pack ahead of time, and were terrible at packing anyway. The number of collisions as people ran up and down the stairs increased rapidly the closer it came to departure time.

"Where's your trunk, Ginny!" demanded Mrs. Weasley.

"In Harri's trunk."

"And where's Harri's trunk," came the instant response as Mrs. Weasley turned her attention to Harri.

"In here," Harri said, patting her shoulder bag. "Less likely to forget if I've always got it with me."

"Why can't you boys be that organized?" bellowed the frazzled woman.

After several false starts, they finally reached King's Cross at a quarter to eleven. With only five minutes to spare, the family started through the wall at Platform 9-and-three-quarters. Ron and Harri went last. They charged at the wall and . . .

WHAM!


	19. Suspicions

_Note: 7/1/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**19\. Suspicions**

Mr. Weasley watched the train vanish in the distance, then he and Molly headed back to the car and home. Along the way, he turned his mind to a subject that had been puzzling him for a week now. He hadn't mentioned it to Molly yet.

This girl, Harri Potter, was a mystery. She had the same name as the famous Boy-Who-Lived; she even had the same colour eyes. He had tried looking for a scar, but her fringe was too thick and revealed nothing no matter how hard he stared. He had watched her swear on her magic that she was not a relative of the boy, neither brother nor cousin. She had even said that she had never even _heard_ of the Boy-Who-Lived until after she got her letter for Hogwarts.

Plenty of people claimed to have met the Boy-Who-Lived, not the least of which was his legal firm Tonks &amp; Tonks. Pictures abounded of the boy with his short hair, green eyes, glasses, and scar. He had even met the boy at their meeting earlier this summer at The Hopping Pot.

Still, things didn't add up. Ron, Neville, and even that Muggle-born witch Hermione Granger had stuck with the girl like glue. Whenever they visited, they were an obvious set with the girl never treated as a mere acquaintance — if anything, she seemed to be the leader. She never followed them. They always waited for her. They frequently stepped in with a distraction whenever something appeared to make her uncomfortable.

There was no indication at all of anything like a crush between any of them that might explain the way they deferred to her in almost all things. When it was just Ron and her, the same was true. Even when the twins or Ginny were with them, those two, three, or four — depending on who was visiting — gravitated together. When they talked about Hogwarts, it was apparent that they were always together there, except when sleeping. They studied together, they had the same classes, and they never seemed to be separate.

And yet he had never once heard any of them refer to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived! The girl, herself, never acknowledged the boy's existence. The others only when they rarely mentioned their adventures together.

However, before the girl came to stay with them, Ron had never mentioned her name, not even once. The conversations all had been about Ron's adventures with Neville, Harry, and Hermione. Once she was at The Burrow, though, Harry Potter the boy might as well have dropped off the face of the planet. True, they said he had gone on vacation with his family, but things that Ron had mentioned in regards to Harry the Boy now seemed to have been done with Harri the Girl.

But he knew that the other three were deeply involved with the famous Harry Potter. From the Troll to the whole Philosopher's Stone incident. He had even heard them talking about a _dragon_ at the school! Not to mention the familiarity all three had exhibited with the boy at that meeting at The Hopping Pot earlier in the summer.

Remembering what the Headmaster had said when he and Molly had met with him after that meeting still blew up his cauldron! Putting the Philosopher's Stone in a school was rank idiocy when he _knew_ a Dark Wizard was looking for it. That he knowingly put a school full of children, including four of Arthur's, in the direct line of spell fire was beyond belief. Did the Headmaster somehow think that a Dark Wizard wouldn't be above hurting or killing a child to get what he wanted? Just look at how many children Dark Wizards had killed in the last war just ten years ago!

The Headmaster summarily dismissed his concerns by saying that the school was the safest place in Britain! So what! Those famous protective enchantments were obviously incapable of detecting either a dark creature — the Troll — or a dark wizard hosting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And children _had_ been endangered and hurt — Harry Potter himself ended up in the Hospital Wing for days! It was only by Merlin's luck that Ron hadn't been injured, or even killed! If all that was true, what _else_ was going on at the school that no one knew and the Headmaster incapable of finding?

His only consolation had been Lady Longbottom's agreement with his assessment. The last School Director's meeting had been rather lively!

But here he was getting sidetracked.

Ron had met Harry Potter on the train, he said, and they were best mates. However, outside of their two adventures together, he never mentioned the boy. What threw Arthur the most, though, was that you could see all four students in the pictures of the train compartment with Peter Pettigrew, and there was no sign of the Boy-Who-Lived.

How had Ron met the boy? In addition, where was Harri Potter, the girl, during those incidents at school? Had she just vanished? And none of his other children mentioned seeing the boy, either. They did talk about how Ron, Neville, Hermione, and Harri Potter, the girl, were inseparable.

Could they be the same person? Could Harri Potter really be Harry Potter? She lived in an average Muggle home, yet her vault was packed with gold — the girl was rich! Then there was her trunk. She had a trunk, personalized, that wasn't even on the market yet — he had asked the dealer about it. All the Harry Potter trunks had serial numbers written on them — hers was a ZERO!

And her reaction when The Daily Prophet announced the deal about the broomsticks at Hogwarts — it was no surprise to her. Ron's reaction had supported that, he didn't know and looked to _her_ for confirmation!

Arthur was ashamed to admit it, but he had listened in to a few of their conversations when they didn't realize he was around. He had used a listening spell as they had started wandering the property that first weekend and Neville had declared it brilliant that she had arranged for the school to get new brooms!

He knew Harri was a girl. Her answering the door nude the one time he had gone to her house had decidedly answered any questions about that! She had been completely unprepared to see wizard visitors.

His first thought was that the boy was under a glamour as a girl to hide him from those who backed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. True, she had sworn she wasn't a relative, but she hadn't sworn she wasn't _him_ in disguise! But she hadn't expected to see wizards at her door, just her neighbors. And her neighbors knew her gender. It would take a very powerful wizard indeed to maintain a glamor day and night for years on end — and no young wizard or witch could do that.

Additionally, the boys all agreed that Harri Potter stayed in the girls' side of the dorms. He had heard Hermione, on more than one occasion, talking with Harri about the girls in their dorm room. He couldn't imagine that the Headmaster would go so far as to let a boy pretend to be a girl just to hide him from his enemies. And if he had, how had he convinced the boy to act like a _girl_? He shuddered at how his son Ron would have reacted to such a suggestion for him! Not to mention getting the girls in the dorm to go along with the charade because clearly Hermione knew both Potters. How had the Headmaster convinced _her_ to keep quiet?

No, he had to be wrong. After all, Harry Potter wore glasses and Harri Potter did _not_. The boy had short hair and the girl had long. That meant they had to be two different people. He should write the twins and ask how often they saw Harry and Harri together. If nothing else, they would find his observations good for a laugh!

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Lord Sirius Black sat back in his darkened study at Grimmauld Place and studied the bottle of Firewhiskey and the now-empty glass beside it. Things were not adding up. When things didn't add up his Marauder instincts rose to the surface.

Harry Potter was an enigma wrapped in a mystery shrouded in darkness. The Headmaster, Merlin rot his soul, had hidden the boy with his hated Muggle relatives for ten years claiming the boy needed the safety and protection of blood enchantments while ignoring how he was regularly beaten by those same relatives. Why? What was _so_ important that Dumbledore would go to such lengths to hide the boy? Surely, the enchantments at Longbottom Mansion or even at Bones Mansion would have sufficed, both would have withstood a sustained attack for more than long enough to either escape or bring in Aurors. Especially Amelia Bones' enchantments, she was head of the DMLE and her enchantments were second only to a few of the oldest Ancient Houses.

And yet at Hogwarts the boy was put in deadly danger, he had fought a Troll and a Dark Wizard who was host to Voldemort, and the Headmaster had done nothing! How was that possible? The enchantments should have detected the presence of a dark wizard immediately. Unless they had and the Headmaster had ignored them. And then that business at the end of the year — Dumbledore had taken off for the Ministry, yet didn't bother to apparate or floo? Why had it taken him hours to discover that the message from the Ministry was a fake? He should have known within minutes of arriving. He should have returned Hogwarts in minutes. But he had instead taken hours to do it. That he had done so was highly suspicious.

Was that old fart trying to _test_ the boy?

He sighed, he needed to talk with Andromeda. Something definitely stank in Denmark and it wasn't the cheese.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

If they had had time, Harri would have offered to put Ron's trunk in her bag as well, but it hadn't happened. That was probably a good thing as it was much less painful for Ron to ram the wall with the trolley, and her into him as she had been right behind him, than it would have been for them to run face-first into the brick wall.

People all around them stared and a guard nearby yelled, "What in blazes d'you think you're doing?"

"Lost control of the trolley," Ron gasped, clutching his ribs as he disentangled himself from Harri and got up.

"What happened?" Harri hissed to Ron.

"I dunno —"

Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them.

"We're going to miss the train," Ron whispered. "I don't understand why the gateway's sealed itself —"

Harri sighed, grabbed Ron's arm and said, "Come on," and pushed him and his trolley ahead of her. As soon as people stopped staring, she used her House-elf "I'm-not-here-don't-walk-into-me" magic to make the rest lose interest.

She stepped up beside the trolley, one hand on Ron's arm, the other on the handle of his trolley. "Listen," she hissed, "Not. One. Word. You understand? Nobody knows this. Nobody but you, Neville, and Hermione will. Understand? Not. One. Word!"

Ron, confused, nodded his understanding that whatever Harri was about to do, he wouldn't mention it.

She closed her eyes for second, then POPed them to the other side of the barrier.

"WHAT!" exclaimed the boy, "HOW DID YOU . . . ."

"SHUSH," hissed Harri back at him, then she dispelled the elf-magic.

The platform was almost deserted compared to last year when she had arrived. Now only the families staying behind were here, and a few stragglers boarding the train. "Hurry," Harri urged, as Ron pushed his trolley beside her at a near run. They abandoned the trolley at the first carriage, and Harri cast a quick feather-weight charm on the heavy trunk. The two of them scrambled up the steps into the train. They had no sooner put both feet on the steps than the train started moving! They had made it, even if just barely.

Harri looked out onto the platform and waved frantically at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as the train moved past them. At least now the adults knew they had made it. The two students pushed their way into the carriage proper, and stopped for a breather. Then they began the long trek to the last carriage where they were supposed to meet their friends. The feather-weight charm helped tremendously.

Finally, after waving at Percy and the twins as they passed their compartments, they reached the last carriage and discovered Ginny sitting with her friend, Luna Lovegood. Harri had Ron wait while she went into the compartment and pulled out her trunk so she could return Ginny's. The next compartment had Neville and Hermione and the two quickly made themselves at home.

"What happened to you two," demanded Hermione, "I started worrying you had missed the train. But how? I saw Ginny, the twins, and Percy board but there was no sign of you two. What made you so late?"

"Harri apparated!" declared Ron.

"No I didn't!"

"Well," he turned to glare at her, "What do you call disappearing from one side of a brick wall and reappearing on the other, then?"

Harri looked at her friends, then started casting silencing charms and locking charms on the compartment. The others waited quietly. That done, she sat back on the bench seat and took a deep breath.

"My birthday," she stared at her lap, "was rather . . . violent," she started. She hadn't told them anything about it yet, not wanting to admit how close she had come to dying. Nor the extent to which certain Wizards were willing to go to hide the evidence. And, despite her welcoming the addition of elf-magic to hers, she was worried her friends would abandon her once she revealed she was tainted with an "inferior" magic.

By the time she finished, an hour later, her friends were horrified, swearing, and threatening dire vengeance on the Dursleys. Hermione had pulled Harri into her lap and the boys were on either side holding her hands. When the lady with the candy trolley appeared later, they were somewhat calmer, but still prone to sudden cursing. Hermione even let loose with a curse word or two, startling the others with her vehemence. Harri couldn't help but marvel that they hadn't just walked out of the compartment. She didn't say that, of course, why give them the idea if they hadn't already thought of it?

As they were finishing their lunches — Harry had retrieved fizzy drinks from her trunk kitchen — Hermione said, "You know, I can't help but wonder if the Headmaster and the other wizards understand just how dangerous it is to muck with modern constable procedures."

The boys looked at her questioningly. Harri blinked, understanding what the other girl meant. They had both watched modern police drama shows on the telly.

The bushy-haired girl quirked her lips, "Well, I'm sure they _obliviated_ the Muggle doctors, but what about the x-rays and reports that the doctors gave the constables, the Muggle Aurors, as evidence? Nowadays, the constables enter their reports on computers, which means the information is no longer at the local station but in the main station. Even if the _obliviators_ tell the constables they _obliviate_ to destroy the evidence, they can only destroy their notes, not the reports they sent. Somebody is going to notice a case was suddenly stopped and reopen it."

At the blank looks from the two boys, she said, "Look, it's simple. Imagine that you're an Auror and you've just sent the Ministry a report from Hogsmeade on a crime at Hogwarts. The report is immediately sent to the Ministry Records Department, right?" The two boys nodded. "Now imagine that someone _obliviates_ the Auror in Hogsmead." They nodded again. "What happens to the report at the Ministry?" Their eyes widened in understanding. "Right," Hermione nodded, "You _could_ send the Auror to the Ministry to remove the report from the Records Department, but that could be hours later, or even the next day. And what if someone else has _already_ seen that record but the Auror doesn't know that?

"The Muggle constables use computers to store the reports, so unless you understand how to use a computer, you _can't_ remove the report! Your average constable doesn't know how to do that, only a special constable in the computer records division knows how to do that. Guess what would happen to a constable asking to destroy a record when he couldn't give a reason for it?

"And even if a constable did know how to remove the report from the computer, they make daily backups, um, duplicates of any new reports or new files, as well as any changes to any files, that are stored at a separate location in case of fire or other catastrophe at the main station. They routinely compare the backup records with the main records to make sure nothing has been lost.

"And once the report is in the computer, it's available instantly to _everyone_ in the department. Eventually, someone is going to notice that the case for that record isn't moving and start asking questions. They'll just restart the investigation, won't they?"

"Oh, yeah, they certainly will!" Ron said.

"And when they ask the detectives about the case and find the detectives don't even remember it? Well, that's going to set off major alarms in the government regarding security. It's one thing to bribe someone to 'forget' a case, and another to actually modify someone's memory!" Her eyes got wide. "This could unravel the whole Secrecy Act! Government agents that the constables have never heard of, much less seen, would see the pattern of _obliviations_ and realize a secret organization was manipulating their people." She shook her head. "All because Headmaster Dumbledore wouldn't let Harri stay somewhere safe. Idiots."

"And Dumbledore won't believe anything we say, so we can't warn them," Harri added, then shrugged. "Nothing we can do then. How about a game of Exploding Snaps?"

The rest of the trip passed quickly and quietly. Neither Draco nor Pansy made an appearance, probably due to the _Notice-Me-Not_ Harri put on their compartment. A quick house-elf cleaning charm just before they arrived took care of the soot from all the explosions. She had tried teaching Hermione a couple of the cleaning charms, but the girl just couldn't seem to _see_ what the magic was doing and duplicate it herself. Apparently, in order to use House-elf cleaning charms you had to use House-elf magic. If you didn't have it, you couldn't do it. When they left the compartment, it was the cleanest it had been since the carriage was delivered to the train station.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

This school year started without too much drama. The Hat sorted Ginny into Gryffindor, as expected. Luna Lovegood, her neighborhood friend, went into Ravenclaw. Harri made sure to clap for both of them. The twins, of course, went overboard with their antics.

The next day was a grand day, Harri enjoyed being back at the castle. It seemed as if it welcomed her back as much as she welcomed being there instead of with the Dursleys.

Professor McGonagall handed out their schedules, and they started right off with Herbology and Professor Sprout. Unfortunately, they immediately ran into their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Gilderoy Lockhart. He had evidently been giving Professor Sprout advice on this year's long-term Second-year project, Mandrakes. From Professor Sprout's expression, Harri gathered that Professor Lockhart's advice was neither needed nor wanted.

She had seen enough of his kind of selfish salesmen to thank God that the man didn't know she was Harry Potter. If he had he would be stuck to her like glue. He would do his best to take advantage of her popularity in the wizarding world. He would pretend to help her "cope" with her fame and while making sure she publicly stumbled as much as possible.

And their first DADA class proved what a smarmy fraud he was. He started off with a test that questioned only if the students had memorized his personal life, and then reading the correct answers aloud. Then he showed them what he called "freshly caught Cornish pixies" — Harri thought he sounded more as if he was announcing the market fish of the day. Then he let them go. The classroom became a madhouse, with the chief inmate in charge.

The worst of it was that most of the school's girls, including, to Harri's dismay, Hermione, were wildly in love with him. He could do no wrong, as far as they were concerned. The girls even pooh-poohed the Cornish pixie debacle as him giving students a bit of practical experience. Seeing as how Hermione's _Freeze_ spell had allowed for the capture of the little monsters, she was the major proponent of that argument. They ignored the fact that the professor hid under his table after the wee beasts had tossed his wand out the window.

As it was, word quickly came to her that he was most unhappy at not being able to find Harry Potter. As a prank, later that week, the quartet let the man overhear Ron saying, "Isn't it brill that Harry Potter attends all the Gryffindor classes using the Headmaster's special _Notice-Me-Not_ enchantment?"

Harri continued with, "Especially with the way it makes people think he's someone else until he speaks, then they remember him, but forget again as soon as they part. It's supposed to be a really ancient and little-known spell. Only the most powerful Wizards can cast it."

Neville said, "It must be stressful having the Headmaster check all his practical work, though," looking down nervously.

Hermione, not to be left out, said, "Well I think it's a marvelous piece of magic that the headmaster has placed on the boy's blank parchments! He fills them out, hands them in for grading, and the Professors grade them and then forget until the next assignment."

From that moment on, the man intently scanned his classroom trying to "see" the hidden boy. He also repeatedly kept going through the homework assignments looking for any he might have "forgotten."

The blonde-haired ponce briefly assumed that Harri was the hidden Harry. A quick oath that she was neither his cousin nor his sister, followed with another that she was not using a glamour to pretend he was a she put that to rest. Convinced she was unrelated, he ignored her and focused on other students as possible "Harrys."

Professor Snape, naturally, welcomed Harri's return with open arms and an immediate detention for that night with a penalty of 5 points for being cheeky. Oddly enough, the Weasley twins had a detention for the exact same night, only starting an hour later. The quartet showed up on time, but Professor Snape had other ideas.

"I am not running a baby-sitting service." He glowered at the group as they stepped inside his office. "Miss Potter is the one with the detention. I'm sure that even she, tiny though her brain is, can find her way back to your pitiful dorms. Leave."

As soon as the door slammed closed, he turned to her and began casting spells. Her wand was in hand before she realized the first spell was some kind of diagnostic. She replaced her wand in its invisible arm holster. Only a slight quirking of the man's lips indicated he saw her reaction.

He studied the results of his spells. "I must apologize, Miss Potter, for the events this summer. I told those cretins that any injury they might give you would be visited upon that giant slug of child they call their son. It appears they did not have the intelligence to understand that warning.

"You appear to have easily survived the assault. How?" He scrutinized her carefully. "What happened after they left the house? Based on the lard-tub's state at the hospital, you should have been severely injured. Yet when I arrived you were in excellent condition." He stared at her awaiting her response.

After a moment's thought, avoiding looking him in the eyes, she said, "I don't know. I was positive I was dying and finally I passed out. When I woke up later, all my injuries were gone. Sometimes that happens when they beat me — I get hurt really bad but my magic fixes me.

"I ended up sleeping until the constables arrived at the house. I figured I shouldn't tell them anything about the beating because they wouldn't believe me. I think the rest you know."

"Madam Pomfrey said there were some peculiarities in your magic core."

Her heart pounding, she said, "Really? Maybe it had something to do with the beating and my magic fixing me."

He studied her expressionlessly. She was sure he didn't believe her, but he hadn't any evidence that she was lying. In fact, she had told the truth with everything she had said. She just hadn't told the complete story. Based on her house-elf's reactions, wizards would not take kindly to discovering she now had elf-magic abilities.

Finally, he asked, "Do you have any questions about your homework assignment?"

Once more on safe ground, she relaxed as he gave her a quick overview of what he expected her to learn in class this year. He told her a few Library references he expected her to use.

When the twins arrived, the conversation changed to what they had accomplished this summer with the extra assignments he had given them. They, in turn, handed over several completed potions, lotions, and candies they had created. The agreement was that he would review and perhaps point out ways to improve the items. Then came the scheduling for which homeworks they would handle (virtually all the First and Second year classes' papers) and the timeframes they had to complete them.

Harri suspected that the time Professor Snape gained in not reviewing those assignments he would devote to his own research. The twins would lose a significant amount of time for pranks, reducing their special brand of chaos. They would gain a Master of Potions review of their extra-credit work.

Harri arrived back at the dorms barely in time for the curfew, and then updated her friends. It was almost ten before she went to bed, and almost eleven before she finished talking with her parents.

Friday, she pulled her first prank. She used her elf magic to "glue" two galleon coins in the Great Hall doorway early in the morning, about four feet apart and centered, and disillusioned them. As she went inside for dinner with her friends, she removed the illusion — Hermione had been most put out when Harri had insisted they leave the Library early for dinner. Ron, on the other hand, had been delighted.

A group of Slytherin upper-years were about to step inside when the lead person stopped dead and bent down to pick up one of the now-visible golden coins on the floor. Then someone noticed the other coin. Neither would come up. Wands were pulled out and spells were cast, all ineffective — that house-elf sticking charm she had learned from Pipsi was powerful, as Sirius had learned with his mum's portrait.

Even though the doorway was ten feet wide, the placement of the coins made it difficult to get past two clumps of four or five students stopped in the middle of the entry. Soon there was a large group of students blocking the entry. It grew by the second as more and more students arrived for dinner.

When the shoving and shouting started, it attracted attention from the Head table. Harri watched, grinning, as Professor Snape stalked to the end of the hall to deal with his Slytherin students blocking the doorway. Soon he was casting spells at the tenacious coin. And then students from inside the hall were gathering around.

Her friends knew she had done something by her grin. What she could have done to cause such a ruckus they didn't know. But it _was_ amusing at this point.

Ultimately, the Dungeons Bat lost his temper — how he had kept it this long she didn't know — and ordered the students inside. Professor Flitwick had joined him by this time and was carefully inspecting the coins.

It quickly turned into a comedic routine. As soon as the students blocking the entrance moved on, the students coming in would see the coins and reflexively stop to get them. And the doorway would clog up, again.

Which required more yelling by Professor Snape to move the students for another set of victims.

What should have taken five minutes for all the students outside to enter took over forty-five minutes. And the stragglers to dinner were _still_ stopping to pick up the coins! By then, Professor Snape was in a right strop and fit to be tied.

The crowning glory was watching Mr. Filch, scowling heavily, come storming in. He stared at the coins, perplexed at the commotion they had caused. As far as he could see, someone had just dropped two galleons on the floor! As he bent down, the entire hall watched with baited breath to see what his reaction would be. When he straightened, coin in hand, the students were speechless. Frowning, he looked at the other coin, then picked it up as well. He glanced into the hall, smiled broadly as he dropped the coins into his pocket, and walked out whistling. Pandemonium erupted as they realized a squib had accomplished what none of the wizards had been able to do.

Harri burst out laughing, followed quickly by her friends and the Weasley twins. Soon, all the Muggle-borns joined in. As far as she was concerned, keying the sticking charm to fail when someone with little or no magic tried to pick up the coins was genius.

The weekend plans were for the quartet to visit Hagrid in the morning — Harri planned to visit him alone that evening, but she didn't mention that to her friends. She knew Hermione wouldn't approve. And it had been almost three months since she had last visited the half-giant.

Wood, however, had a different plan in mind and rousted Harri with the other Gryffindor Quidditch team members at five in the morning. After a thoroughly boring couple of hours sitting uncomfortably in the changing room sleeping, er, absorbing Wood's new plays, they hit the field, eager to try their new Nimbus Two Thousand broomsticks.

And moments later, the Slytherin team came out with a note declaring they had the pitch. The announcement that they had a new seeker, and new Nimbus Two Thousand and One brooms was quite surprising. Apparently, the Slytherins didn't know that all the teams would be using the _donated_ Nimbus Harry Potter Signature brooms in the games — that was, after all, one of the conditions of the donation. Had the Headmaster not told them? Or had Professor McGonagall, as Deputy Headmaster, handled the donation and "forgot" to inform Professor Snape of that little detail? Harri decided not to mention it either. Let them practice with their new brooms and then be completely unsettled when they started the first game of the season with the other, slower brooms instead. Her dad thought it was brill, and a great prank, when she told her parents that night. Even her mum approved, though not as enthusiastically as her dad.

Wood and Flint were exchanging unpleasant words, and Ron, Neville, and Hermione were walking up about to insert themselves into the argument when Harri interrupted. "How about a quick pickup game, then. Neither of the teams is ready to experiment with new plays, and certainly not when the other team is here on the field! Besides, we'll need a few practices just to get used to using our new brooms with the plays we already know." After some minor debate, they took to the field.

As Harri had expected, everyone but her was having a difficult time handling their new brooms. For her, the new brooms were only a bit better than her Nimbus Two Thousand. For them, the new brooms were radically faster and more maneuverable. The Quidditch players were constantly over-shooting and under-estimating their speeds and cornering.

Both teams tried their best to use underhanded tactics to injure the other's team members, but they had their hands full controlling their brooms. Even the normally in-sync twins were swinging and missing bludgers because they got to the right spot too soon or too late. Harri, though, had the pleasure of watching Draco Malfoy eat grass when he failed to pull up from a dive in time. Pansy was much less amused and called Harri a few names that she was too far away to hear clearly. Somehow, Pansy considered it Harri's fault that Draco couldn't handle his new broom as well as he had expected.

Finally, the quartet managed to make it to Hagrid's hut late that morning and stayed for a couple of hours. While the others were distracted, she managed to get a few cleaning charms cast. She left Hagrid's hut markedly cleaner than when she arrived.

After that, they had lunch and wandered across the grounds enjoying the sun. The boys and Harri tried to talk Hermione into seeing that Professor Lockhart was a fraud, but she was having none of it. The bushy-haired girl had helped them prank the man because he was searching for Harry, but that was as far as she was willing to go. After all, just look at his books! He was a _published_ author!

Dinner arrived, and when she finished she went over to the twins for a few minutes. With their assurances that they would cover for her for a few hours, in exchange for a few potion ingredients and a certain amount of unsupervised time in her potions room, she headed out for Hagrid's hut. She knew he would appreciate her new knickers. These had several different magical creatures romping around on them — and doing rather naughty things, too. It had taken her a bit of searching to find them. She snickered. Tomorrow she planned on showing them to her friends in the Clubroom. She hadn't had any naked time since the Weasley's had "rescued" her.

Several hours later, thoroughly relaxed and a little sore, she walked through the entry hall towards the stairs to the Gryffindor entry. She was discovering that she enjoyed cuddling when the person she was with had no expectations and was willing to take things at the pace _she_ wanted. She had even fallen asleep. It was only Hagrid getting up to fix tea that woke her.

It was much easier to handle the half-gallon of tea she drank while talking with Hagrid over the course of the evening knowing that Hagrid's hut had its own hidden water closet. One had to be careful, though, or one might fall in — Hagrid _was_ a half-giant man, after all. Easily distracted, too. He hadn't noticed her using a couple of cleaning charms during the evening — the walls and floor had probably never been that clean before.

She had no sooner reached the foot of the stairs than she heard a voice, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

"_Come . . . come to me. . . . Let me rip you. . . . Let me tear you. . . . Let me kill you. . . ._"

Harri stopped dead, suddenly covered in a sweat. She had had enough conversations with the snakes in the garden at the Dursleys to recognize the strange voice for what it was — a snake was hunting. She had heard it talking to itself. From the deep timbre of the voice she knew it was a large snake, a very large snake. Much larger than the ones in her garden. The small snakes all spoke in high pitches. This one she could feel as much as she could hear it.

She looked around carefully, but there was nothing in sight. It was late, and there were no students in sight, only a few would still be out this late. The rest would be in their dorms.

The voice had been harsh, but muffled as if it were behind something. She hunted around the staircase for several minutes. There was nothing in sight. She used a few cleaning spells trying to detect a hole or hiding place. It appeared Mr. Filch wasn't too thorough under and behind the staircases. She found nothing. And the voice said no more. Spooked, she hurried to her dorm. Unfortunately, her parents were as confused as she was.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Just to mess with Professor Lockhart's head, Harri would sometimes change herself to Harry Potter and then let the Professor see "him" at the intersection of a corridor, or walking out of a classroom. Then, before he could catch up to her, she would go around a corner and hide under her invisibility cloak while running away. A few times other students had seen "Harry" as well.

To her annoyance, a new student, Colin Creevey, joined the man in his hunt, only the Firstie had a camera! He, at least, only wanted a picture to prove to his parents that Harry Potter was a real person.

Her second prank was a bit more involved and she ended up having the Hogwarts House-elves help her. Once she showed them what she had planned, they enthusiastically participated. They promised to tell no one, except the Headmaster if he directly asked.

One dark, dreary, rainy day the students trooped down to breakfast just as they always did. At precisely 8:30, when the maximum number of students were in the Great Hall, balloons the size of footballs began dropping from the ceiling. They were all the same grey colour as the sky outside, and blended with the ceiling perfectly, which had masked their presence.

There were hundreds of them cascading down, startling and perplexing the students and staff. It was only when one of the Muggle-born Firsties stomped on one that the prank was revealed. A great cloud of powder engulfed the victim. When the cloud settled to the floor, the Firstie's robes were partially-coated a brilliant-blue that radiated from his foot. His hands and face were unadorned. Immediately, a second Firstie pounced on another balloon, only to emerge mostly a fluorescent green. Soon students all over the Hall were stabbing, stomping, and jumping on the balloons, coming out in every shade of the rainbow. A select few were covered in glitter. Being caught in the edge of another's cloud added that color to ones own color, or at least that part caught in the new balloon's color cloud.

Soon all the students were in what the Muggle-born called tie-die robes, and the floor a giant spatter of colours. Very few robes still had a trace of their normal black.

To everyone's dismay, the Headmaster's _finite_ merely bleached out the colors, leaving them in robes covered in a white powder, except those in glitter, they still glittered. It took several cleaning charms to remove the powder, which Professor Snape identified as simple flour. Mr. Filch was not amused when he first saw the floor — he turned so purple Harri was worried he might have a stroke!

Fortunately for the Squib, all he had to do was place his sweep on the floor and the flour seemed to fly to it as iron filings do to a magnet. Two quick sweeps up and down the Hall and it was as clean as if he had waxed and shined the stone. House-elf charms were just ace, as far as Harri was concerned.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

Rainy, dreary, cold October had arrived. Oliver kept up his demanding practice schedule. The Slytherins kept practicing with their new brooms, never dreaming that the first match they played would be on the slightly older brooms, which would throw off all their timing on their plays.

Tramping in after one wet practice saw Harri delivered to Filch's office where Filch gleefully prepared to make an example of her. Fortunately, Peeves dropping a Vanishing Cabinet in the room above Filch's office was a godsend and Harri got out without punishment. She did discover that Filch, indeed, was a Squib. And he was taking an owl-order course in an attempt to improve his spellcasting abilities. Later, she wondered if there was some way she could enchant some of his mops and brushes with House-elf magic to make his life a tiny bit easier. That brief bit she had added to the flour had worked quite well.

Nearly Headless Nick had instigated Harri's deliverance from endurance vile, and she ended up dragooned into attending his 500th deathday party on October 31st. Halloween had never been a holiday she had been able to celebrate at the Dursleys. Harri wasn't upset to miss the celebration of her parent's death in the Great Hall anyway. As far as she was concerned, it was just a random celebration of no importance to her, although she tended to spend long conversations with her parents on that night.

It wasn't until late October that she finally gave in to temptation. She left Colin a note, signed Harry Potter, to meet her at the end of the third floor corridor on the right hand side after dinner.

He showed up, as she expected. She was in her guise of Harry Potter, glasses and exposed scar prominent.

"Hi, Colin," she said as he came towards her. She guided him into the classroom at the end. It was sparling clean, not a trace of dust or disorder anywhere.

"Okay, Colin, here's the deal," she explained after he greeted the other three of their quartet. "I'm going to let you take some pictures."

The excitable boy immediately lifted his camera. She held her hand up over the lens. "Uh uh, not so fast!" She gently pushed his camera down. "There are some conditions."

"Anything," he blurted out, "anything!"

She nodded agreeably, "First, you're gonna take a couple of pictures of the four of us for our parents, then I'll let you take a picture of yourself with us." He was nodding so fast she thought he was going to break his neck. "I'll even sign one for you, but you have to give up hunting for me. Do that, and later this year I'll let you take more pictures."

It was only a short time later that the Firstie was running back to his dorm to work on developing his new pictures.

Harri exchanged grins with her friends. Colin showing off his pictures of Harry would throw Professor Lockhart into a major strop at the boy's success and his continued failure.

Her third prank involved the house-elves, as well. It was completely harmless. She purchased a hundred index cards and printed on them the message _Harry Potter was here! _Then she convinced the house-elves to take the cards and hide them in the trunks of all the Sixth and Seventh year students, and a select few others mostly in Slytherin. It took a few days for them to be found, but suddenly the Upper Year students were searching for that Second-year student. They were intent on finding out how he had gotten into their dorm and then into their carefully locked trunks! It never occurred to them to wonder how their clothes always seemed to be packed back in their trunks in the morning after they left them lying on the floor at the end of the previous day.

Finally came Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party in the Dungeons.

Hermione, Ron, and Neville had decided to go with her. About the only thing she could say about the party was that she hadn't known what to expect, and what she seen there, indeed, had been unexpected. She would never attend another such gathering. Ghost humour was not for the living, and it was appalling to realize that there were just as many bullies among the ghosts as there were among the living.

It was as they were finally leaving the gathering that it happened again.

"_. . . rip . . . tear . . . kill . . ._"

It was the snake — the same cold, murderous voice she had heard before.

She stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all her might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

"Harri, what're you — ?"

"It's that voice again — shut up a minute —"

"_. . . soo hungry . . . for soo long . . ._"

"Listen!" said Harri urgently, and the others froze, watching him.

"_. . . kill . . . time to kill . . ._"

The voice was growing fainter. Harri was sure it was moving away — moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped her as she stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a ghost, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?

Harri took off at a run towards the staircases, she had to catch up with the snake before it attacked someone. Maybe she could talk it out of hurting anyone, at least on purpose. Surprised, the others followed her a moment later, "Wait, Harri! What's wrong!" she heard Hermione call behind her as they pelted up the stairs, past the noisy Great Hall and up the marble staircase to the First Floor. She slowed to a halt, listening intently.

"Harri, . . . ."

"SHUT UP!"

"_Blood . . . I smell blood. . . . I SMELL BLOOD!_"

Harri yelled, "SHITE!" as she took off up the staircase to the Second Floor. The snake hadn't done anything yet, it was still hunting, but blood? Someone was severely hurt. They had to get there quick before the snake. She ran around the whole Second Floor until they reached a deserted corridor.

There was only silence now.

"Harri, what was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything. . . ."

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor. "Look!"

Something was shining on the wall ahead.

Barely visible in the dim torchlight was a message written on the wall in foot-high letters:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN

OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

X - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - X

The students spent the next few days filling every spare moment with nothing but speculation about the events following the Halloween Feast. Who had petrified poor Mrs. Norris? Whose blood had been used? If not for the scary message on the wall, most students thought the petrified cat a most excellent prank and had little to no sympathy for the distraught Mr. Filch who could not even remove the message.

The only thing remotely humourous for the quartet in the entire incident was discovering the horror that was Lockhart's office. Dozens, if not hundreds of his portraits on the walls and stacks of fan mail in every corner. His attempt to commandeer the conversation that night were laughable.

What bothered the quartet the most, though, was Draco Malfoy's and the rest of the Slytherin House's reaction to the threat on the wall — undisguised glee. They went out of their way to taunt the other Houses and any Muggle-born students they came across. The progress they had made the previous year in bridging the antagonism gap between their House and the rest of Hogwarts was almost erased. It hadn't erupted into hexing in the corridors, but the sneers and taunts infuriated the other students.

Draco, followed closely by Pansy — usually literally — were by far the worst offenders. By the middle of the week the quartet were convinced that Draco was the Heir of Slytherin, and responsible for both the message and the petrified cat. They weren't sure how he had managed to be at the Feast — there were many witnesses — and arrange to leave that message at the same time, but they were positive _he_ had done it!

Ron's recollection that one of his older brothers, Bill, had mentioned a hidden chamber had resulted in a quick letter. Professor Binns' comments about the Chamber on Wednesday were interesting, but also gave Hermione an idea. "Let's ask Nearly Headless Nick," she said. "He's been here for five hundred years! Surely _he_ will remember anything about a hidden chamber."

Nick repeated Professor Binn's description of the Chamber as a legacy of the Founder Slytherin, with a dangerous beast inside to protect the Chamber and its secrets. He did tell them, though, that the Chamber had been opened fifty years ago, that the ghost Moaning Myrtle had been killed by the monster, and that Hagrid had been expelled for releasing the monster!

Hagrid? Hurt a student? Never!

That evening after dinner saw them trooping out to see the big man himself.

"'Arri!" the big man cried delightedly, "Whot brings yer four out tonight?" He stepped back inviting them inside his hut.

"We had some questions about, you know, the Chamber of Secrets," Harri said hesitantly. At the man's scowl she knew she was right to approach things carefully.

"Nasty business, that," he growled. He sank into his chair, still scowling fiercely.

She cleared her throat, "Hagrid, we were talking with Nearly Headless Nick and he mentioned that the Chamber," she exchanged nervous glances with her friends, "was opened once before, and that you were blamed."

His expression did not clear, but he nodded slowly.

She quickly added, "We know you didn't do it! You would never hurt a student!"

He looked at her and blinked and she could see the trace of a smile in his beard. "Thank ye," he said quietly, "Yer dunna know how much that means to me."

They sat in silence for a minute, each thinking about the Chamber.

Finally, Harri said, "Um, Hagrid?"

The half-giant looked over at her.

"Could you tell us what happened last time?"

He considered it a while before saying, "It were a terrible time, it were. It were my Third year when three students were petrified, and then another student, Myrtle I think her name were, were killed. Terrible, it were, terrible.

"Tom Riddle, a Fifth-year prefect, told them that it were me who opened the Chamber and let the monster out. Like I could do 'hat." Hagrid looked disgusted at the mere thought. "He found me wit' me pet spider Aragog, and claimed I had a monster. I managed to get Aragog to the Forbidden Forest afore they could find him, but Aragog, he's a spider. Spiders dun petrify their victims, so he couldna dun it." Hagrid scowled again.

"But they believed 'im, snapped me wand, and expelled me." He hung his head down.

"I shoulda known the Chamber was open, me roosters have all been killed, just like last time. Back then it were Professor Kettleburn who were in charge, and all his roosters were killed. I shoulda known," he shook his head sadly.

After tea and a bit more conversation, the quartet slowly headed back to the castle.

Hermione said, "We know it petrifies its victims, but it can also kill. It should be a snake of some kind because Harri told us he heard it through the walls when it was talking to itself. But what kind of snake petrifies its victims? Don't all snakes use venom? We're gonna have to spend some time in the library researching it." Hermione looked positively happy at the prospect while Ron and Neville looked dejected.

Harri said, "I think we need to find Myrtle and see what she remembers. She might know some detail that will help us."

Later that night, Harri hesitantly entered the First Floor Girls Toilets. She was reluctantly followed by Hermione and even more reluctantly by Neville and Ron. The last three were somewhat scandalized by boys being in the girls toilet room. Harri didn't see that problem, she was more concerned with dealing with Myrtle.

Harri, like most girls in Hogwarts, avoided this particular set of toilets. Dirty, dingy, broken mirrors, poorly cared for, the room was depressing even without a ghost haunting it. The house-elves ignored this room for some reason, and Mr. Filch had his hands full dealing with the other, frequently used parts of the castle. As the black-haired girl walked to the last toilet she snapped her fingers and the floor became dry and slightly cleaner. She opened the stall and called, "Myrtle?"

Moaning Myrtle came into view, floating above the toilet tank. She eyed the two boys suspiciously. "This is the _girls'_ toilet, _they're_ not girls," she said accusingly.

"They wanted to say hi, but you rarely leave your toilet, so they had to come in," Harri said. Surprised, Myrtle looked over at the two boys. Ron wanly lifted one hand and gave a vague wave. Neville, still blushing over being a girl's toilet room, looked at the ghost wide-eyed. Myrtle turned shy and looked down, twisting side to side and wringing her hands together.

Continuing on, Harri said, "Did you have fun at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party?"

The ghost looked back at Harri. "Not really. They were all _important_ _nobles_ with _interesting_ lives and deaths," she said dejectedly. "They haven't much time for an _insignificant_ student who died by accident. Everyone except _Peeves_ ignored me. And _Peeves_ upset me so much I came back early.

"I really don't like Peeves, the ghost wailed, "he's so _mean_ to me."

Harri studied the ghost, taking a good look for the first time. She was short, plain, with large unfashionable glasses and long lanky hair. The sort of quiet girl that attracted bullies. She looked just seconds from bursting into tears. A drama-queen as well, it appeared. Harri knew the type well, handle with care and she would gladly tell them anything, one mistake and they wouldn't see her for days.

"Myrtle, I was hoping you could help us. We would be ever so grateful," Hermione wheedled.

The ghost brightened up at hearing that.

"Yes, really, if it wouldn't be too much of a problem," Harri coaxed, "Could you tell us how you died?"

"Ooooh, it was _dreadful,_" she said dramatically. She looked positively happy and flattered that someone had actually asked her that question. Harri suppressed her urge to shudder. "It happened right in here, in this _very_ cubicle. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in.

"He said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a _boy_ speaking. So I opened the stall door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I _died_."

The quartet exchanged glances. Harri asked, "How?"

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away. . . ." She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses," the ghost added vindictively.

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?"

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Harri hesitated while the other three moved to examine the sink. She cleared her throat. "Um, how _big_ were those eyes? I mean, were they apple sized? Smaller? Larger? Were this far apart?" She held her hands six inches away from each other. "Or were they more?"

Myrtle tilted her head slightly and cradled her right elbow in her left hand as she tapped her cheek with her index finger, considering. Finally, she looked back at Harri. "They were about this big," she held out her hands with thumbs and index fingers a couple of inches apart to make a big circle, "and about this far apart," she spread her arms wide.

Harri felt the blood drain from her face and she felt woozy. That was one _HUGE_ snake! It was certainly capable of swallowing a person. In fact, it could probably swallow Hagrid! A student wouldn't even be an appetizer.

"Thanks, Myrtle," she said faintly, "You've been a big help." Her mouth suddenly dry, Harri joined her friends by the sink.

"Look, Harri," said Hermione, pointing at one of the taps on the sink. "There's something etched there."

Sure enough, there was a symbol etched there. Harri carefully cast a house-elf cleaning spell on the metal, making it gleam like new. The symbol was clearly visible now — a snake.

"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as Harri cautiously tried to turn it.

Neville nervously spoke up, "I think we found something important, maybe we should tell Professor McGonagall?"

"Yeah," agreed Hermione.

"I think so, too," said Ron.

"Do you think they'll believe us?" Harri had to ask. Her track record with adults wasn't the best. "I think I should tell Professor Snape, too. Remember how Professor McGonagall blew us off last year?"

They decided to tell both. Of the two, Professor Snape gave the most positive response, "I will pass your concerns on to the Headmaster."

Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, had said, "You needn't worry about such things, the Headmaster has everything well in hand." She had glared at them. "You should be more concerned with your classwork." She had singled out both Ron and Neville at that point.

Neville's casting had indeed improved with his new wand. Now the problem seemed to be that he put too much power into his spells. His first _Wingardium Leviosa_ had buried his feather in the stone ceiling. And how he had managed to get a rock to burn to ash still mystified the other students in his class.


	20. Slytherins Get a Clue

_Note: 7/1/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**20\. Slytherins Get a Clue**

The quartet decided that their best shot at discovering the Heir of Slytherin was to sneak into the Slytherin dorms and see if they could get Draco to confess. After all, in the snake den itself and with his penchant for bragging about the smallest accomplishment, he wouldn't be shy about announcing to his fellow Slytherins that he was the Heir. The only problem was they needed the Polyjuice potion, and only books in the Library's Restricted Section listed that potion.

Thus, after a revolting class in which Professor Lockhart humiliated a student by making him enact a scene — including growls and howls — from one of the Professor's book where he claimed to have used a spell to reverse a werewolf transformation — if it were so simple why were werewolves feared? — Hermione requested a pass to the Restricted Section. The git was perfectly happy to sign the permission form when the girl breathlessly told him it was for research on his book _Gadding with Ghouls_. Harri had a hard time keeping her face from revealing her disgust at Hermione's obvious infatuation and Gilderoy's gullibility.

Half an hour later, the four were in Moaning Myrtle's toilets examining their find, _Moste Potente Potions_. Harri thought it odd that the Headmaster hadn't sealed off the toilets to prevent the monster from petrifying any more students after Professor Snape told him of their discovery. This lack of action worried Harri. What was the old duffer thinking?

It would be take almost a month to prepare the potion. Fortunately, Harri had most of the ingredients they needed in her trunk Potions Room and thus they could get started immediately. The ones they didn't have, expensive though they might be, were not an issue for Harri. She arranged with Pipsy to get the missing ingredients. They wanted to use the Potions Room in Harri's trunk to brew it because it was the most secure place they had. The boys would not be able to help if they did that though — after all, the trunk was in the girls' dorm and inaccessible to them. That meant they had to use Moaning Myrtle's toilets. When the potion was ready, they would decant it and head to the Dungeons that the Slytherins called home.

Although Harri desperately wanted to clean up Moaning Myrtle's toilets, she knew that doing so would attract attention. Someone was bound to notice their new clean state and remove the _Out of Order_ sign Filch had posted after Mrs. Norris was petrified. And that would mean girls would start to use them. Which meant someone was bound to notice the cauldron brewing away making Polyjuice in one of the cubicles. And, not incidentally, expose the unsuspecting girls to danger should the creature once more appear there. Moaning Myrtle might want the company, but Harri, in good conscience, couldn't let that happen.

After thinking on it for a few days, she came to a compromise. She used charms to make the toilets _look_ even more disgusting while actually repairing and cleaning them. Hermione's addition of a mild _Notice-Me-Not_ helped steer others away as well. After it was safe to do so, she would remove the concealing charms.

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

Harri was taking a Sunday sun break on one of the very few sunny days in a normally dreary November. She had tucked herself between two sloping roof ridges that not only blocked the wind but also reflected the sunlight onto the angled flat spot between them. That short alcove faced south and was more than warm enough to provide an enjoyable sunning despite the colder temperature elsewhere.

Hermione was in the library with Neville researching the monster. Ron was playing chess in the Common Room.

She expected the Twins to show up shortly. She had noticed that every time she went sunbathing, it didn't take long for the boys to make an appearance. Typical boys, they would never pass up a chance to see a naked girl, even a hopeless slag like her — and it wasn't as if she had a great figure for them to stare at, either. Like their brother Ron, it must be the novelty that kept their attention.

The castle roof had numerous peaks, ridges, valleys, and troughs as it guided the accumulated Scottish rainfall and snow into preferred routes and down-drains. Nowhere could water pool and eventually seep through to the rooms below. As a result, there were easily a dozen hidden spots on Hogwarts' roof adequate for sunbathing. Moreover, she knew she wasn't the only one to take advantage of them, especially in the nicer weather of September and in the spring.

All the girls who partook of such activities, mostly Fourth year and above, quickly learned the spells necessary to protect their privacy — _Notice-Me-Not_s and _Avoid-This-Place_ were the favorites. To prevent the boys from simply using a _finite_, the girls also included alarm spells at the entrances to the roofs and the walkways to their favorite spots. A clever boy _could_ use his broom to fly up from the ground, but as soon as he tried to cast a _finite_ he was easily spotted and hexed by the girls.

At least once a year a boy would try it. After his example, the rest knew they did _not_ want to be on the receiving end of a battery of hexes from the nude girls they were trying to spy on — the hexes were very painful and long lasting. Plus, Madam Pomfrey always seemed to know how her latest patient came to be hexed and provided little comfort, healing only the worst of the curses. The others she left as a painful object lesson to her patient.

The first time the Twins had come up to the roof in September they had tried to pretend they were nonchalantly strolling around — while actually looking for unsuspecting girls. Safe behind their minor enchantments, the girls had laughed at the boys. The Twins passed only a few feet from the girls they sought while not seeing a thing.

She had watched them walk by her favorite spot, walking from right to left in front of her, before getting up and tiptoeing to the edge of her area spell. After passing her, they had stopped just out of sight of where she had been lying and referred to a piece of parchment. They had looked puzzled as they examined the parchment and then looked back in her direction. Putting away the parchment, they had slowly walked back towards her.

She had canceled the _Notice-Me-Not_ and stared at them.

They immediately saw her head peering over the edge of the slanted ridge section and stopped.

"Why, hello there Harri . . . ," said Fred. At least she was going to assume the one on her left was Fred. That _she_ had surprised _them_ did not bode well for them.

"Fancy meeting. . . ," said George.

". . . you up here."

"The question is," she had replied, raising an eyebrow quizzically, "why are you two looking for me?" She paused. "And what is that paper you were referring to?"

The twins looked at each other.

"Paper?" said Fred.

"What paper?"

Harri wasn't concerned about the twins finding her, even though she was nude. She could always POP away far faster than they could do anything untoward. They were, after all, only fourteen — still in the experimentation stage of sexual relationships. Snogging and maybe a bit of fondling through the robes was probably the best of their experiences. Most of the boys at that age had to be goaded or guided into doing anything farther, as she had seen in the hotel room over the years. Only someone familiar with sex had the confidence to assume that the girl wanted to shag as much as the boy did, but was pretending otherwise to avoid the label of "easy."

Being considered easy was not an issue for her. She would take "easy" over slag, scrubber, or whore any day.

They were still unsure of their sexuality and what it meant. Why did some girls act as if they wanted more than just snogging, but backed off rapidly when they boy tried to go beyond that point? Why did others who seemed uninterested in snogging turn out to be the most exciting ones behind a closed door?

And while the Twins were better at dealing with girls as people, unlike their younger brother who still regarded most girls as mysterious objects it was best to avoid, they were nowhere near as suave and debonair as they thought.

Not that she expected them to do anything more than stare like deer caught in a lorry's headlights — that was pretty normal based on her experience. From what Ron had told her, the Twins were more than a bit jealous of his knowledge of the female anatomy. She moved slightly sideways so the slope of the ridge no longer hid her small right breast.

She suppressed a smile at the how both boys' eyes immediately fixed on the revealed body part. Yep. They were two budding perverts. She moved another step sideways to reveal her entire chest. Their eyes widened even farther. They were speechless at the thought that a girl, any girl, would willingly let them see her topless in broad daylight. It was one thing to have Ginny _tell_ them that Harri had answered the door at #4 Privet Drive completely nude and another to actually _see_ the girl that way. They obviously had never met a worthless slag like her, whose only value was in her body and what she could get with it. They stepped closer.

"So," she continued, "this paper you were looking at, what is it?"

Still staring, Fred said, "Nothing important."

". . . ," said George.

She walked around the ridge and stopped in front of them. "Could I see it?" She tilted her head slightly and smiled. Not that they noticed her smile. "Please?"

George fumbled at his pocket. He continued to stare at the nude girl as he handed her the parchment.

She unfolded it. It was blank on both sides. She glanced up at them. They were still mesmerized and staring at her. She flipped out her wand and tapped the parchment. Perhaps it needed a bit of magic to reveal its secrets. At first, nothing happened. Then words appeared.

"Mr. Prongs is confused, why is he playing with his wand?"

"Mr. Padfoot is surprised that Mr. Prongs is playing with his wand."

"Mr. Moony is nonplussed. This wizard is and isn't Mr. Prongs."

"Mr. Wormtail complements this wizard on confusing his compatriots. Few manage to do so."

She looked up at the Twins again. She knew what this was; Sirius had described it to her when recounting stories of her father and mother. It was the Marauder's Map. He had thought it lost forever when Mr. Filch had confiscated it in their last year.

"Where did you find the map?"

That brought the Twins back to life and they both stared at her — as in they were looking in her eyes and not at her chest or lower. They looked at each other a moment, silently communicating.

"How do you . . . ," said George.

". . . know what that is?" finished his brother.

She smiled, "I know Padfoot."

Their eyes opened wide at that revelation.

She had almost said Prongs was her father, but that would have given away her secret. She hadn't met Moony, yet. Sirius had promised to introduce her to him, but she had shied away from that. There was a secret there that Sirius skated the edges of when recounting his and her father's adventures with the other man.

By common consent, he rarely mentioned the fourth member of their group.

She hadn't a clue what the secret was, but the fact that she could hear Sirius censoring himself as he talked about the man made her nervous about both. She knew who Wormtail was, though. Knowing he had led Voldemort to her parents made her distrustful of secrets in that old quartet.

She scowled, "And I've met Wormtail."

She took a breath. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she said, tapping the parchment with her wand a second time. The Twins' jaws dropped open.

The map filled the parchment. Names appeared all over the castle. She looked in the library, and yes, Hermione and Neville were still there. Ron was still in the Common Room playing chess. Professor Snape was in his rooms in the dungeon, and it appeared that Malfoy was visiting him.

And there, at the top, on the roof were their names, Harry Potter, George Weasley, and Fred Weasley. It didn't appear that there were any other people on the roof at this time. Damn. The map showed her real name. She sighed.

"Come over here," she ordered turning and leading them back to where she had been sunbathing. She sat, cross-legged, on the roof. The two boys followed suit in sitting, but their eyes were stuck looking at a specific part of her anatomy — below her waist. She hid her smile. Boys and men were so easy to manipulate once she removed her clothes.

She cast another _Notice-Me-Not_, followed by a silencing spell. No one would over-hear what they were about to discuss. She leaned over and dragged part of her robe across her lap. Both boys blinked, and then guiltily looked up her. She grinned. "Yes, I know, I took away your eye candy. If you're good you might get it back."

She grinned even more at their astonished expressions. Then she became serious. "Before I tell you any more, I need your solemn promise, Wizard's Oath, that you won't disclose any of my secrets without my permission." She held out her wand. "Say this, 'I swear I will be unable to disclose to anyone what Harri Potter says or does that she or I would consider personal unless she gives me her permission to do so. So mote it be.'"

The two redheads looked at each other. "I don't know," said George.

"A Wizards Oath is . . . ," said Fred.

". . . pretty serious."

"And what if you . . ."

". . . do something illegal?"

She studied them a moment. "I can tell you that my secrets are very important. Someone could die if you speak of them to the wrong person. One of my secrets is the reason Headmaster Dumbledore is in such trouble with your father. Another is what really happened to Professor Quirrell last term."

The twins looked at each other before turning back to her. "Alright. We're in. The deal is off if you try to blackmail us, though."

With a minor change in the wording, they took the Oath.

"Fine. First, as the map showed you, I am Harry Potter." She smiled at their disbelieving stares. She held out her hand and showed them the House Ring.

"Blimey!"

"How is that possible?"

"You're a girl!"

"Harry Potter is a boy!"

"And you're a Muggle-born."

It took a few minutes to convince them. Eventually, they believed her but it took Pipsy POPing in and confirming that she was a House Potter Elf and that Harri was, indeed, the Lord of House Potter to do it. Pipsy had left mumbling something about stupid Wizards not believing that her Master was Lord Harry Potter.

The two Weasleys were goggle-eyed at the revelation.

"That . . . that has to be . . ."

". . . the best prank . . ."

". . . we've ever heard of!"

"You're pranking all of Hogwarts!"

"No," his brother corrected him, "the entire Wizarding World!"

She grinned. Then she told them just who the Marauders were, and promised to introduce them to Sirius and maybe even Remus. They immediately started kowtowing and crying, "We are not worthy! We are not worthy!"

She gave them a brief history of her life, saying only that the Dursleys hadn't been very nice to her. She explained about Dumbledore changing her to a girl and that she couldn't change back.

She told them the truth about the Troll incident and how Grave-Digger had possessed their DADA teacher, which left them scowling. They were stunned when she told them that Ron, Hermione, and Neville not only knew her secret, but had pledged their _support_ to her. She even told them about the Clubroom. She also told them about Professor Snape and how he had helped her.

They were not happy to hear that he could read their thoughts if they looked him the eyes. She told them she suspected that the Headmaster could do the same — Professor Snape had not denied the possibility when she had asked him. This thought turned the boys' complexions quite pale. She suggested, "The next time you visit either man and are questioned about something you want to keep secret, you should absolutely positively _not_ think about rampaging dragons breathing fire!"

"Rampaging dragons . . ."

". . . breathing fire?"

They had stared at her nonplussed, but agreed anyway.

The twins tried to get her to take the map as its rightful owner. She insisted they keep it but instead see if they could duplicate it. In the meantime, she would ask Sirius what spells they had used to make the map. With a list of the spells it shouldn't be that difficult to recreate the map. Considering how interested Sirius appeared to be in her experiences at Hogwarts, he might make a map of his own!

The boys had been too stunned that first time to pursue her "eye-candy" offer from before and instead had left the roof to discuss what they now knew.

The next few times she had been on the roof the twins had shown up. She had been more than happy to show them her knickers — they had never seen them. They had been a bit stunned that she had brought up several sets just to put on the knickers to show them off. She did learn something from the twins, though. They told her that they found it far sexier for a girl to be wearing tight-cut knickers than to be completely nude.

Like all the boys she had known, they were spellbound by her chest and quite gratified that she let them play a bit there. Snogging she wasn't nearly as interested in as they were, kissing she regarded as a waste of time and very messy. Instead, she taught them a few things about the female body — such as that special little spot that went such a _long_ ways towards making witches happy when someone played with it. And, like Neville and their brother, they listened when she said no farther.

When they did finally get girlfriends, they would definitely impress them with their knowledge. In the meantime, the three of them had a few enjoyable times together.

Today, she was waiting for them for a different reason. She had an idea she wanted to discuss with them. The Marauders Map could be instrumental in tracking Malfoy and catching him in the act the next time he tried to hurt someone, and maybe getting him expelled!

Plus, she was curious how their meeting with Sirius in Hogsmeade had turned out. And if Remus had been there. And what they had thought of them both.

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

"What do you mean, we can't use our new brooms?" roared Flint. "We've been practicing with these brooms since September!"

Harri didn't bother hiding her smile at the bad news.

"Don't take that tone with me!" Madam Hooch said sternly. "You saw the announcement on the bulletin board in your common room. Nimbus Racing Brooms gave the school new brooms for the Quidditch games this year! You should have asked your Househead before assuming you could spurn their generosity and use your own brooms." She glared at the Quidditch Captain. "Now, then, unless you want to forfeit the game, put away your personal brooms and get back out here with the correct ones!"

It was with ill-grace and much grumbling that the Slytherin team complied.

Just as Harri had predicted, practicing with the wrong brooms threw off the Slytherins' entire game. It took almost half-an-hour for them to adjust to the slower brooms. The steadily increasing rain didn't help them any, either.

In the meantime, the Gryffindor team racked up an impressive one hundred and sixty points and Harri played a dangerous dance with a bludger that just wouldn't behave like a bludger. It was following her like nifler after gold. It finally succeeded in hitting her, making a mash of her right elbow, just as she managed to get snitch.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't amused at seeing Harri in her ward. It was apparent that she was going to be talking with Professor Lockhart in the near future, and it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation from the Professor's point of view. And Harri could look forward to a long night regrowing her vanished bones. She supposed she should count herself lucky he hadn't vanished her entire _arm_!

After Madam Pomfrey chased out her friends that evening — "Visiting hours are OVER!" — Harri reflected on how many people had stopped by to say hello. Her friends, of course, had been first, although Neville had had to restrain Hermione from making a detour to hex their DADA Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, for bumbling what should have been a simple spell. Next had been most of their year from Gryffindor, both boys and girls, as well as the hard-core Quidditch fans from the other years. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had trailed in next.

The hours had passed as they talked and dissected the game, with much amusement at how the Slytherins had flubbed their first game by practicing on the wrong brooms. Harri had mostly just laid in bed, listening, basking in the glow of companionship. Minie had held her hand for much of the time, not once complaining that they should be studying instead of repeatedly recounting the just completed game.

After Madam Pomfrey had caught the Twins trying to smuggle in butter-beer, she had chased out everyone but her closest friends. And banned the Twins from the Wing unless they themselves were too severely injured to stay in their dorm — which she declared would only be if they were on their deathbed! The Twins had just shrugged it off and moved the party back to the Gryffindor dorms.

Overall, she had never had an experience like that before. She would so enjoy telling her parents tomorrow night.

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

The next morning, Sunday, was a bit of a disappointment for Harri. Nobody was there when she woke up — and she could have sworn she remembered Minie being in bed with her, like the last time she had been in the Hospital Wing. Ron, Neville, and Hermione were all gone from the Dorm when she got there. Percy, oddly enough, was the one to give her the clue she needed with his comment about how Ron had better not be in a girls' toilet somewhere, again.

All three were in Myrtle's toilets working on the Polyjuice. They already knew about Colin Creevy being petrified. The news that Dobby had been the one to block the wall at King's Cross and had hexed the Bludger to hit Harri wasn't as surprising as she thought it was.

"Well," Hermione said, "He did take your mail, so it makes sense that he wouldn't give up."

And Ron added, "You know what, Harri? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you." That bit of wisdom had them all shaking their heads.

By that afternoon, the entire school knew of Colin's plight. Malfoy, typically, implied that he knew what was happening and how, without saying anything that in and of itself would be incriminating.

The Twins had nothing to report on what the Marauders' Map showed — they _had_ been asleep, after all.

Unfortunately, when Hermione asked about ordering Mandrake ingredients instead of waiting until May, Professor Snape informed her, in no uncertain terms, that the ingredients had to be fresh. Stored ingredients just wouldn't do the job for this particular potion. And while the potion itself could be stored for several months, it was not an off-the-shelf item for potions dealers.

Their Polyjuice potion, fortunately, was coming along perfectly. Pipsy was able to acquire and deliver the potion ingredients they needed with plenty of time to spare. When she delivered the missing ingredients, she apologized about the delay, though. "I's sorry its took so long Master Harri Sir. The boomslang skin came from Australia."

Harri looked at the house-elf. "Australia?"

"Yes, Master Harri Sir. Snakes don't shed in winter soes I had to order it from where it was warm."

She had to think about that for a moment. "Australia!" the girl exclaimed. "Of course!"

Hermione looked up from the cauldron, "Hmm?"

"Our Mandrakes won't be ready until May because that's when they normally mature in Britain, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, Australia is in the Southern Hemisphere . . . ."

"And the season's are switched," Hermione began to get excited.

"Which makes November in Australia. . . ."

"The equivalent of our . . . ."

". . . May growing season!" concluded Harri

"We don't have to wait until our May! We can order the Mandrake ingredients and get them in a few weeks, if not immediately," Hermione was jumping up and down excitedly.

"And Colin can tell us what the creature is!"

They both paused, breathless.

"How much do we need?"

"To the Clubroom!" cried Hermione.

An hour later they had their answer, based on a guess about the boy's weight.

"We should order dozen, just in case others get petrified," said Hermione. "After all, the Professors might not be able to catch the monster immediately and, I expect, a couple might get petrified hunting it."

They told Pipsy to put in a rush order for a dozen mature mandrakes, kept in stasis so they wouldn't age during transit and would be in the best shape possible when they arrived. Plus, with extras they could use only what they needed and save the rest for emergencies later.

It took two and a half weeks to get the mandrakes, and Harri was quite happy to deliver three to Professor Snape. "Once the potion is brewed, we can find out from Colin what it was that petrified him!"

"I will inform the Headmaster immediately," the gruff man said, taking the plants and setting them on his desk. "The potion will not take long to prepare."

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

A bit over two weeks later, Thursday December 17th, the Dueling Club turned into another disaster for Harri.

"Why didn't you tell us you could talk with snakes," demanded Hermione, hands on hips. They were in their Clubroom, safe from the prying ears and eyes of their fellow students.

"I did!" protested Harri. "On the train last year, I told you all I could talk with the snakes and frogs around my house."

"You didn't say you _talk_ talked with them, that they _understood_ you! _Blimey_," Ron interrupted. "I thought you meant you talked _at_ them! Like those barmy witches who talk to their cats and kneazles all the time."

They stared at each other.

Harri said sulkily, "I still don't see what the big deal is."

Ron said, "What the big deal is? The BIG DEAL is that everyone _knows_ that's the mark of a Dark Wizard! _Grave-Robber_ spoke to snakes."

"Herpo the Foul, was a parselmouth," Hermione put in.

"And Salazaar Slytherin," said Neville.

Ron glanced at them, "Right, have you ever heard of a _decent_ Wizard or Witch who could _talk_ to snakes?"

"Well I'm not an evil witch and I'm a," she glanced at Hermione, "parselmouth." She glared at them. "If you think I'm evil . . . ," her voice caught in her throat for a moment.

_Here it comes_, she thought in despair, _here's where they all leave me. Not because of anything I did, but because of something I didn't even know was unusual_.

". . . then you might as well go now, before I contaminate you," she finished bitterly, waving at the door to the clubroom. She _should_ be able to hold it together until the door closed behind them.

The other three recoiled and she felt her stomach burn.

"Are you flipping barmy? You're our _mate_!" declared Ron. Hermione said, "Honestly, Harri!" while stepping forward to give her a bone-crushing hug. Neville nodded quickly and joined her in hugging Harri. Ron sighed, then joined them, saying, "I just wish you had told us."

"I did!"

They had to use Harri's Invisibility Cloak to sneak back to Gryffindor after curfew.

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

The next morning was a tense affair for Harri and her friends. There was a gap between them and the other Gryffindors at the breakfast table in the Great Hall. Having the Twins bow and scape as the quartet had walked in had been unsettling. Their loud proclamations that all should yield way to the Heir of Slytherin, and ordering the Gryffindors to make room had been almost too much.

While a few of the Gryffindors, fewer of the Ravenclaws, and none of the Hufflepuffs, had reacted with laughter, most had stared at her suspiciously or were too afraid to even look in her direction. The fickle opinion of Hogwarts' masses had shifted once again Harri sadly realized.

Still, she couldn't help but look over at the Slytherin table to see their reactions. Two of the upper-year students wore carefully blank expressions. A large number simply frowned. The rest were not afraid to show their outrage at the disrespect shown by the Weasleys to the Slytherin Heir — not that they believed for a moment that Harri was it.

A few, it seemed, regarded her status as the apparent Heir as humourous —a _Gryffindor_ being called the _Heir of Slytherin —_ a grand prank if there ever was!

Most were offended that a Muggle-born spoke Parseltongue — it _couldn't_ be true, it had to be a trick. Someone of her obvious low station could _not_ be the _Heir_. Malfoy and Pansy in particular seemed upset that everyone in the other Houses thought that Harri was the Heir. Harri knew that Malfoy couldn't complain about it without revealing that _he_ was the Heir and getting into trouble for the attacks.

But the attitude of the other students was still depressing. Only her friends dared look her in the eye. The others whispered behind her back and some even ran the other way when they saw her coming down the corridor. Her friends sat with her in classes in an island surrounded by empty chairs as the others sat as far from her as possible.

To cheer herself up after her run-in with the Hufflepuffs in the library — they seemed to think she was really responsible for the petrifications — after Professor Sprout canceled Herbology on account of the blizzard, Harri decided to clean up a few of the unused classrooms. That it took her mind off her fellow students' dismaying reactions was merely coincidence. She was also hiding from her friends. They meant well, but it was tiring after a while.

She had just finished with her third classroom when she heard voices approaching.

"Look, we can't talk out here. In there."

Falling back on old habits to avoid attention, she darted to the closest corner, hoping the door would help hide her as they entered. She snapped her fingers, covering herself with a quick _I'm-Not-Here_ house-elf spell.

The door opened and a Slytherin boy came striding in. He gave the room a thorough examination as the other six students followed in behind him. He looked right at Harri in her corner. She kept quite still, as Pipsy had instructed her. The magic was weakest if she moved while someone actively was trying to see her.

He turned back to his friends. They were all upper-year students and she only recognized one of them — not who he was, just that she had seen him before. He was a Prefect and was now casting _silencio_ charms on the door and walls.

"There, no one will disturb us. Now, explain yourself Shafiq."

Shafiq was a tall blond fellow with a light complexion. He stared at his fellow Slytherins and shook his head. "You just don't get it, do you?"

The others stared back at him impassively.

"Okay," he shook his head sadly, "I'll explain the obvious.

"First, remember last year, before the train even arrived, four Firsties," he ticked them off on his fingers, "Neville 'the Squib' Longbottom; Ronald 'Poor in All Ways' Weasley; Granger, a mud-blood; and Harri 'I'm not The-Boy-Who-Lived' Potter, also a mud-blood, managed to discover and reveal the animagus Peter Pettigrew.

"One of the Dark Lord's faithful followers who had remained hidden for ten years, who had been at Hogwarts for four years without detection! And Harri Potter found him the first time she saw him. And, not incidentally, gained the favor and support of one of the oldest Dark Families in Britain — the Blacks."

"Like we would forget," stated a brown-haired Slytherin.

He gave the others a severe look, "Remember those four names."

"Second, the Troll."

Several of the others rolled their eyes and nodded.

"Consider. These same four Firsties somehow manage to subdue a 12-foot-tall, 80-stone full-grown Mountain Troll on Halloween."

"Oh, come on, that's just a rumour they made up to make themselves look good! We all know the Professors took care of that Troll!" objected the same Slytherin as before.

"Not according to Professor Snape!"

The others stared.

"My father is on the Hogwarts' Board of Directors, and according to the minutes in their Summer meeting during a closed session, that's what he said!"

He had their interest now.

"How did you get the minutes of their meeting?" asked the brown-haired Slytherin.

"My father wanted to know what I knew of various things from last year. He wanted to know how well it was hushed up. How much leverage he actually had in getting the students to support the truth."

The Slytherin nodded understanding.

"Next, remember when Malfoy lost us twenty points in the middle of the year?"

"Humph," sounded one of the Slytherins, "I hexed him good for that one. He lost us more points last year than the entire rest of the House!" The others nodded agreement. "He's a rubbish Slytherin. A big mouth with no cunning whatsoever."

"Ignoring that," Shafiq continued, "Malfoy insisted that those same four were smuggling Hagrid's dragon out of the castle!"

"He just made up that rubbish story to explain why he was out past curfew," interrupted brown-hair. "That half-giant oaf can only _dream_ of having a dragon! That Malfoy dunderhead can't even think up a decent excuse, why he thought anyone would believe that is beyond me! A dragon at Hogwarts, and nobody knew? Ha!"

"True. Except Granger and Potter also lost points."

"I remember that, put us firmly in the lead for the cup!" said another Slytherin.

"So, what was their excuse for being out past curfew?"

The Slytherins exchanged puzzled looks.

"I asked Hagrid about his Dragon." He grinned as the others made disgusted expressions. "One does what one must," he said. "That _oaf_ can't keep a secret to save his soul," he added as he shook his head in mock sadness. "You know what the simpleton told me?" He paused.

One of them made a rotating motion with his hand, prompting the speaker to hurry up and tell them.

"He had hatched a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon egg. Those same four Firsties were indeed smuggling a dragon out of the castle that night. Only two were caught — Granger and Potter, the Muggle-borns." He stopped and raised an eyebrow at the others. "Oh, once I promised I wouldn't spread the story, he showed me the shell pieces. Bizarre, isn't it?

"Next, we have Professor Quirrell. You remember the rumours. Potter ended up in the Hospital Wing."

They all rolled their eyes at that.

"The truth, though, is something decidedly different."

He had them hooked. "According to the minutes, Professor Quirrell was possessed by the Dark Lord. You know what he was after? The _Philosopher's Stone_! That was what the Cerberus was guarding."

"No!" came the startled response.

"Yes." He paused a moment for that to sink in.

"And guess who was involved in it up to their eyeballs? Four Firsties: Longbottom, Ronald Weasley, Granger, and Potter. Are you beginning to notice a pattern here? Every major suspicious event — the same four students." He paused again. "And, except for Peter Pettigrew, all the incidents were thoroughly hushed up by the Headmaster. Not a word of them leaked to the Ministry or newsparchments."

The others took a moment to think about that.

"And the real kicker? Potter herself offed the Professor."

"No way!" "I don't believe it!" "A Muggle-born Firstie kill a half-blood Professor and get away with it? Nonsense!"

"Lady Longbottom brought a _pensieve_ with her son's memories. According to the minutes, that's _exactly_ what happened." Shafiq paused. "Anyone who can break into Gringotts to steal something, which he _admitted_ _to_ in those memories, and get out alive is not a rubbish, ineffectual Wizard, easily beaten by a Firstie! What we saw in our DADA classes was a sham.

"There is something far more than just four incompetent and very lucky Firsties involved here. There is a _reason_ they have the label 'The Golden Four.' There is a _reason_ the Headmaster is so lenient with them." He stared at the others, daring a response.

"And remember how Potter acted at the end of year feast? Refusing that buffoon's lame and transparent attempt to give the cup to his favorite House? In fact, remember how she constantly fought for equal treatment of Slytherin House all year? She even managed to get the Weasley twin bastards to lay-off Slytherin with their pranks." He paused again. "And, as you pointed out," he looked at the Slytherin with black hair tied in a pony-tail, "Potter got away with murder." Safiq started pacing.

"On the one hand, she acts like a typical Gryffindor rushing into danger without a thought. On the other, she's managed to get Professor Snape on her side, even to the point of getting those two Weasley bastards as his unofficial apprentices! _And_ got away with killing a professor. How Slytherin is _that_?"

"And even more striking? Because of those four Firsties, led by her — and believe me, I've watched them closely, she's the leader all right! — Headmaster Dumbledore is on probation!"

They others looked at him incredulously. "Blimey," came a muttered response.

"Yes. That hypocritical paragon of Light is being brought down by a Firstie, for Merlin's sake! That was the outcome of the Directors' meeting. One more incident that puts a student in the Hospital Wing due to his neglect, and he's out." Shafiq whirled to face the other Slytherins.

"And that brings us to this year. The Chamber and the Heir." He frowned.

"I was puzzled at first. It seemed to have _nothing_ to do with the Golden Four. I thought it might be Longbottom or Weasley instead." He slashed his hand through the air. "But it couldn't be Weasley, he's the sixth son. The Heir would have to be the first son, Bill, who is no longer here. And no Weasley has _ever_ been a Parselmouth. Plus, unless that prat Ronald is an accomplished actor, he just doesn't have the personality." He resumed pacing.

"Longbottom, though, _was_ a possibility. Unfortunately, the family lineage charts clearly show the only connections to Salazar Slytherin are through daughters and female cousins. And no one in their family has demonstrated a Parselmouth ability.

"The Granger witch is an unknown. I did find a Hector Dagworth-Granger, but the connection to her is uncertain and he is only related to Slytherin via female cousins, anyway."

"And that leaves us with Harri Potter. She is impossible to trace on the Muggle-side, there are _thousands_ of Potter families in the isles and any one of them could be related to the Wizard Potters.

"The Wizard Potters I could trace all the way to the Peverell's, most likely Ignotus. The Peverell's _are_ related to the Gaunts however, and the Gaunts _were_ Parselmouths. But the only living Potter family member is the boy Harry Potter, and no one knows where he is." Shafiq looked up at the other Slytherins, "I believe the numerous sightings of the boy this year are mere pranks. No one saw him at all last year.

"And so there I was — nothing linked the Golden Four to the Chamber. If only Harri was a _boy_, then maybe he was involved — either as the Heir or in opposition — and the Golden Four are in it again. But, no, all we have is a _girl_ Harri Potter. Unrelated to House Potter — at least that's what she wants us to think."

The others exchanged glances. Ponytail hesitantly said, "Surely you aren't suggesting . . . ."

"And then we discover the _girl_ Harri Potter is a _Parselmouth_." Shafiq interrupted him and looked at each of the others in turn. "A _Parselmouth_," he repeated for emphasis.

"Only the purest of pure-bloods have ever been Parselmouths. How did a _she_ get that ability? It's _impossible_ for a _mud-blood_!" He waited a beat for them to respond.

"Unless she isn't," he continued.

"What if . . . what if we've all been lied to? What if . . . Harri Potter is actually _the_ Harry Potter — the so-called Boy-Who-Lived? What if the son of Lily and James Potter was a _daughter_?

"The ultimate deception," he held up his hand index finger extended. "The Wizarding World and the Death Eaters are all expecting a boy — and overlooking the girl. A very Slytherin approach to the problem of hiding your identity, don't you think." He raised an eyebrow quizzically, dropping his hand to his side.

"But everyone who knew the Potters said it was a boy!" objected the brown-haired Slytherin.

"So they lied. All part of the deception — only a very few actually saw the baby. The Potters were hiding remember? And most of those who know the truth are _conveniently_ out of the way. The rest only knew what they were _told_. A small memory modification done to those who did know different, and voile! Everybody thinks Harry Potter is a boy."

"But what about all those products that came out last year with his name and picture on them — those people all claim to have met the boy!"

"Misdirection, masterfully done. She reinforces the story that she's a boy and hides in plain sight. A bit of minor spell work to fit the gullible public's expectations."

"A glamour," the brown-haired Slytherin suggested quietly. "Polyjuice," came from another.

"No," he said, "I've hit her with numerous _finites_ and nothing changed. And she doesn't take a drink every hour like Polyjuice requires — not to mention that Polyjuice would require a sample from the _boy_ to work. You can't make a Polyjuice of yourself as a girl!" He looked at the others, smirking.

"It's _possible_ that the Headmaster cast a powerful enough spell to last all year, one I couldn't break without a lot of obvious effort. On the other hand, what eleven or twelve year old boy do _you_ know would put up with being told he had to be a girl at Hogwarts? And would be able to pull it off convincingly enough to fool his roommates?"

He smirked again. "Besides, I think his Gryffindor roommates would take exception to sharing their showers with a boy — the secret would be out immediately." He sighed. "No, she's definitely a girl." He looked back up at the others.

"Now do you understand? Harri Potter is the one who vanquished the Dark Lord eleven years ago. And she did it again last year while dueling a full-grown wizard. How many of _you_ could beat an adult wizard using only _First_-_year_ spells?" He paused and waited as they all slowly nodded, getting his point.

"And she beat him by _killing_ him. Could you have done that as a Firstie?" he asked rhetorically. "And no mud-blood could get away with murdering a half-blood. Even if it were self-defense, there would be a trial. If the victim's family was powerful enough, they wouldn't even bother with a trial, they would just toss her in Azkaban.

"But what if she were the daughter of an Ancient and Noble family — the Potters certainly qualify! An important and rich family, one owed a favor by the head of another powerful Ancient and Noble Family — Lord Black? Yes, I could see the Headmaster and other adults hushing that one up, can't you? _Especially_ if it revealed that the Dark Lord was trying to come back!" They were all nodding in acknowledgement of his arguments.

"Plus, last year she surrounded herself with those we would normally shun as inferior. How Slytherin is _that_? Hide your talents among the rubbish to fool your enemies.

"Unfortunately, her own talents have driven the others up by turn. Today those three _consistently_ outperform almost everyone else in their class._ Weasley_ is pushing the top of his class, up from the very bottom. Granger _is_ the top of her class and closing in on top of the school. Neville, the one we called a Squib, is exploding things with too much power." He swept the Slytherins with a glance. "Did she push them, browbeat them to excel? Or did she see potential no one else noticed and simply nurtured it? And, in turn, those three are intensely loyal to her for that. Just _watch_ them." He paused.

"Everyone who has crossed her has suffered, be it Malfoy getting suspended or Quirrell being killed — hell, the Dark Lord came out second best to her, twice! I think the Headmaster has tried to control her — not only has she contrived to escape, she has turned the tables on him! The issues over Potter's mail and the Headmaster's current probation are sufficient examples. And no one suspects her of _anything_! She's just a poor down-trodden Muggle-born struggling to learn the ways of the Wizarding World."

He studied their troubled expressions. "I, for one, want to be on her good side. That's why I'm warning you to leave her alone. You don't have to pretend to be a friend, as long as you obviously are not against her, you should be safe."

"What about the Dark Lord? He's clearly not gone and he's trying to come back." Several of the Slytherins shuddered at the prospect.

Shafiq studied the others for a moment. "She beat him at the age of one, and _again_ at the age of eleven. What are the odds that she will beat him next time, when she's older and more powerful?" He frowned. "If I knew her plans, what she was preparing, I would consider pledging my House to her right now."

There was a startled gasp and whispered, "No."

"Consider: The Dark Lord _said_ he was the Heir of Slytherin and offered his Parselmouth abilities as proof — and she is also a Parselmouth." He stopped and looked down for a moment. "She has beaten him _twice_, now, destroyed his body and reduced him to a wraith." He looked back up at the others. "What if she's now Lady Slytherin by Right of Conquest?"

That rocked the others back on their heels.

"Na-Nonsense," stuttered the one with his hair in a ponytail. "She's a _girl_ and Slytherin is by _male_ descent only."

"Right of Conquest. She holds the House in stewardship for one of her son's. Or she adopts a son and makes him the Heir. In either case, the Dark Lord is no longer the Heir of Slytherin. By Right of Conquest."

They stood silent for several moments, thinking.

Shafiq said into the silence, "Which brings up the whole issue of just to whom this message 'enemies of the Heir beware' is directed. And who wrote it? Is this a_ third_ attempt by the Dark Lord to beat her? Or did Potter do it as another misdirection?"

"The Muggle-born Creevy was petrified."

"Creevy was also pestering Potter something fierce for pictures."

"He said he had permission."

"Saying something does not make it true."

"The pictures were obviously posed."

"A ploy to bring the Firstie close enough to attack later." He stared at his fellow Slytherins. "Harri Potter has power," Shafiq continued, "and she's not afraid to use it in the most Slytherin way possible." He took a deep breath. "Walk softly, don't challenge the girl or her friends. Observe before you move. If she can beat the Dark Lord not once, but twice, what chance do _you_ have?"

Silence once more descended on the group.

"What if you're wrong, what if this is all just a bunch of coincidences?"

"That's a fair question, but what if I'm _right_? Knowing all this, look at the damage I and my family could take if I ignored the evidence and she _is_ The-Boy-Who-Lived, and she _is_ playing the Wizarding World like the consummate Slytherin."

"You keep saying how Slytherin of her. She's in Gryffindor!" scoffed a Slytherin.

"What better place for a true Slytherin to hide than among the Gryffindor? Who would _ever_ suspect that a _Slytherin_ would choose to be in _Gryffindor_?

"And that's why I discourage _any_ Slytherin from offending Potter, it _could_ backfire with a high body count — we _know_ she's willing to kill if the stakes are high enough," said Shafiq. "Until we know for sure how this will play out, pass the word to those smart enough to listen — return to _last_ year's status quo. And tell _no one_ outside of Slytherin that Harri Potter is The-Boy-Who-Lived, let them all figure it out on their own. Save it for the Dark Lord, should he actually return. Although he probably already knows."

On that note, the Slytherins removed their enchantments and silently filed out.

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

Harri lay curled up on the classroom floor, shivering, clutching her wand so tight she couldn't feel her fingers. Never, never in her wildest nightmares had she ever thought the Slytherins would figure it out. They knew . . . they _knew_ who she really was. No amount of denial on her part would change that. Their evidence, all circumstantial though most of it was, was too compelling simply to play off as coincidence or chance, even though that's exactly what most of it was. She had been _too_ confident that she was safe. What a mistake. He had even figured out that the Sorting Hat had _tried_ to put her in Slytherin and she had talked it into _Gryffindor_! Not because she was hiding, though, but because she didn't want to be with a bunch of bullies.

At first, when Shafiq had started talking she had wanted just to escape. POPing out would have revealed they had been overheard and who knew how they would react to that? But as she listened she realized that all her hopes to remain hidden were fruitless. One by one, he had sorted out the clues, her mistakes. When Shafiq had gotten to her parselmouth ability she had been sure her heart was thudding loud enough to be heard over the _I'm-Not-Here_ spell. Only by sliding down to lay on the floor had she not collapsed in a dead faint.

And now that they had figured out her identity, how long would it take them to figure out her past, that she was nothing more than a common whore? They would lose all fear of her and demand she be expelled from the Wizarding World!

There were only three good things to come out of this whole thing — the Slytherins would stay silent. The smart ones would stop antagonizing the rest of the school. And what was this Right of Conquest? Her House Traditions lessons hadn't covered that.

It took her almost an hour to regain enough control to go searching for her friends. She _had_ to tell them what had just happened.


	21. Dear Diary

_Note: 1/1/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**21\. Dear Diary**

_Saturday, December 19__th__, 1992_

_I am so worried about Harri. She always appears ever so cheerful and eccentric — but I know that's a façade. She's really a deeply disturbed and fragile girl. That she considers "normal" what she went through as a child is horrifying! And the things that have happened in the last few days, I fear, might break that façade._

_I know I've said it before, but maybe by putting it all down will help. I would have written on Thursday or Friday, but with all that was going on I couldn't find the peace of mind to sit still long enough to record what had happened._

_I'll start with last year, maybe reviewing it will trigger a memory or association I missed previously._

_When we first met her, the boys and I thought it was, you know, just — just! — yelling and maybe an occasional smack. But by the end of last year we knew there was something very wrong with her. Mum sent me a couple of books on child abuse when I mentioned my suspicions in November. The books were eye opening, to say the least! Based on her reactions to others I warned the boys that Harri's past was much, much darker than we had ever suspected. Her actions with Ron over the Christmas holidays, and the rest of the year with both boys, showed me just how dark that past might be. Between her conversation with Madam Pomfrey last year first week and her inadvertent slip at Neville's party? Oh my God, is all I can say! Verbal and physical abuse? A frying pan? RAPE? What is _**wrong **_with the Dursleys?_

_My reading over the summer was a definite help, even if I did throw-up a few times in the library loo when I realized what I was reading meant about Harri. Little things she does that I never noticed, like her habit of always walking beside me, with me, Ron and Nev between her and other boys. And she always sits in a chair in the common room — with its back to a wall — instead of on a couch (unless the boys and I are also sitting on the couch). Or if she is stretched out over the couch and someone else wants to sit there, too, she moves to a chair. Or what it really means when she gets so stiff when Ron or Nev or I hug her without warning. I had never really noticed how she almost hyperventilates when surprised like that._

_Between what Harri out-right told us, what she unintentionally let slip, and her reactions, I have a fairly complete picture of her life before Hogwarts. She's been viciously beaten, starved, and repeatedly raped by her Uncle and cousin. For years. Just writing that makes me want to throw up. And to kill her so-called relatives._

_Like all abusers, they've must have constantly told her she was worthless. And threatened her with dire results should she tell anyone or anyone discover what they did. That, combined with frequent verbal/physical/sexual abuse, demonstrated she had no control over her fate. That, in turn, has destroyed her self-esteem and any sense of self-worth. I think she literally doesn't _care_ if she dies!_

_She's convinced we will leave her at the slightest provocation — just look at her reactions to the few times we dragged her to the Clubroom for a talk! Each time she's acted as if the world were about to collapse. According to the books, it's because she has this idea that we will abandon her in disgust if we ever "found out" what her past was _really_ like. She doesn't understand that we like her for how she is right now, not whatever happened to her in the past. It's like expecting people to decide not to be my friends because I got a 94 on a math test in Primary Three instead of 100!_

_Unfortunately, her coping mechanisms for dealing with the trauma of her past are . . . less than optimal. Her semi-sexual game of having the boys, and me, play with her . . . knickers . . . while "chasing" the creatures on them is a bizarre control issue, according to the books, as is letting the boys fondle her bare breasts. Her inappropriate nudity is another such issue. It's all tied up in establishing that Harri has control over what others do to her body and not the other way around. But if anyone finds out what she lets the boys do, I'm afraid she'll see a much bigger, and worse, reaction than if she simply told everyone about her past._

_Fortunately, I managed to convince Neville and Ron never to do anything that Harri didn't initiate or readily agree to do. I know the boys heard from Ron's older brothers and other boys in the dorms that girls that say "no" mean "maybe" and that those that say "maybe" mean "yes," — but when Harri says "no" it _means_ no! I also warned them that they had better do the same for _any_ girl they dated — or they might find their family jewels stored in a box in my trunk!_

_How that will hold up when she hits puberty is something we'll have to tackle later. Harri will either turn into a recluse, avoiding anything that might hint of sex and sexuality, or she'll turn into a succubus — sex anytime, anywhere, with anyone, and dressing as sexually provocative as possible. After all, the reason most girls refuse intercourse is because they are "saving themselves for their husband" or "that special someone," which in Harri's case isn't an issue, there's nothing to "save" for a future. I sincerely hope she chooses a middle ground between those two extremes. Her casual nudity in the girls' dorm is bad enough, but watching her do the same in the Common Room? I shudder to think of the reactions she'd get._

_In the meantime, Harri keeps my hands full trying to keep her respectable in public and somewhat restrained in private with the boys, which now includes the Twins! Why, oh, why did she tell them so much? I understand how the map gave away her being Harry Potter, but she didn't _have_ to tell them about the Clubroom, did she? I worry that the older boys, in ignorance and not knowing just how bad the abuse was, will push a bit too much and break Harri's fragile façade._

_I am so glad I made the Twins retake that vow to hide Harri's secrets. Dumping four of my child abuse books into their laps and refusing to let them leave until they had read at least one of them was a big help. When I pointed out what I had noticed about her reactions, without telling them about any of the games she plays with Ron and Nev, I think they got the point._

_The Twins had looked quite shaken up and had readily agreed to be extra careful around Harri, as well as keep an eye on her from a distance. They had even taken a vow to have their magic prevent them from doing anything with Harri that she did not want them to do. That was a load off my mind, but still I worry that being older they might push into activities she isn't ready for yet – there is a huge mental difference between 'well, if you really want to do that' and 'oh, yes, that sounds like a great idea! Let's do it!'_

_And then that stupid Dueling Club on Thursday last — PARSELTONGUE!_

_And in front of virtually the _entire school_! At first, I didn't think anything about it, just another strange thing that Harri did. But Neville and Ron's reactions, as well as the Twins, showed me my error. And the school's reaction the next morning! It couldn't have been worse for her. People pointing and whispering, people avoiding her and calling her names, people isolating her._

_It had to reinforce her nightmares about how people would react if they found out about her past! I shudder to think what she might have done if we hadn't been there to back her up and defend her. At least she could see that _we_ supported her!_

_Up to now, there have been only a few rumours drifting around about her. Last year the rumour that The-Boy-Who-Lived was her brother or cousin quickly died after the first few days. It revived briefly this year when the new group of Firsties arrived, but dropped when the older students talked to them. How everyone's going to react when they discover that she really _is_ Harry Potter gives me nightmares! She must know she can't keep it a secret forever. And the blow back when it comes out gives me nightmares. I know what it's like to be ostracized by your peers, but it won't be anything like she'll get here!_

_The troll incident had brought a brief spurt of attention, but, honestly, her Seeker success on the Quidditch field garnered more. Nobody knew the story of the dragon, thank God, and again there were only rumours about the Philosopher's Stone — and most students outside of Gryffindor have put that off as nonsense. Almost everyone dismissed Neville's stories as the wild exaggerations of a Firstie. (I don't know whether to be relieved about that or upset that we don't get credit for such great spell work!) What usually gets her the most attention are the points she earns and loses, and those were no worse or better than some other students. All-in-all, she's treated fairly normally by the students. Only the Hogwarts staff and we four knew any different. But now the Twins know! The secret is spreading!_

_I thought we were getting things under control — the three of us providing backup and the Twins doing their comedy routines and making people laugh. Honestly though, so she's a Parselmouth, so what? How could she be the Heir of Slytherin? As far as the school knows, she's a Muggle-born! And even though she's a really a half-blood, I'm pretty sure that the Potters aren't related to Slytherin except perhaps in the most tenuous manner possible. So it's all a tempest in a teacup, no matter how distasteful the situation right now._

_But then, Friday afternoon, an hour or so before dinner, Harri stumbled into the dorm with the most devastated look imaginable on her face. She'd clearly been crying. She had a white-knuckled grip on her wand. Fearing the worst, I hustled right over and dragged her upstairs. With the silencing spells up, I tried to get her to tell me what had happened to her._

_But she was almost incoherent. While I was relieved to hear that nothing had physically happened to her — no one had attacked her — the story I finally got from her has unsettling implications that will take some time to figure out. Somehow, she overheard several upper-year Slytherins discussing her — they concluded she was really Harry Potter, the so-called Boy-Who-Lived! I'm not clear how they came to that conclusion, but, apparently, the smarter Slytherins have been paying far more attention to her than we ever expected. And she mentioned something about them thinking she might really _**be**_the Heir of the Slytherin House — by Right of Conquest! How messed up is _that_?_

_And what was worse, after hearing all that from the Slytherins, on her way back to the dorm to tell us what had happened, she stumbled across Justin Finch-Fletchey. And I mean literally stumbled across because he was on the floor, _petrified_! Floating above him was Nearly Headless Nick, also petrified. I have _never_ heard or read of a ghost being petrified, and neither has anyone else._

_Naturally, seconds after this horrifying discovery, she's straightaway found by other students who immediately jump to the conclusion that she petrified them! Unbelievable. What twits. Professor McGonagall does nothing to help, just drags Harri off to see the Headmaster. Now, everyone thinks the Headmaster believes Harri is somehow _responsible_ for what happened to Justin and Nick!_

_And I'm not sure what, if anything, the Headmaster thought he could learn from Harri. He already _knows_ where the entrance to the Chamber is, we told Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall what we found in Myrtle's bathroom weeks ago! Is it just _coincidence_ this stuff happens on the first floor near Moaning Myrtle's toilets?_

_Having Harri brought to him solved nothing, and in fact just fanned the flames of the Hogwarts' rumour mill. Unless he expected to read her mind to learn if we are up to something we shouldn't be doing or planning. With the state of her mind the last few days, I'm sure the only thing he got from Harri was a headache. Serves him right, the old goat._

_When I finally got her calmed down she practically fell asleep immediately and slept through until Saturday breakfast, missing dinner. It must be the stress, poor kid._

_But how will we deal with the Slytherins? What can we do to make them change their minds? Do we want to? Based on what she told me, having the Slytherins think she's the Heir, or Lady, might actually be good for us in the short term. If the upper-years are warning the lower ones to tone down the hostility, the whole school will benefit. I think Ron and Neville will have the best ideas on what it all means if the Slytherins truly believe Harri is the Lady of Slytherin, especially if it's by Right of Conquest._

_Unfortunately, I didn't see any of that neutrality when the boys and I went to Friday dinner. Several Gryffindors commented on Harri's absence, relieved that she wasn't there to threaten them with her mere presence. I almost hexed them! And the Hufflepuffs were even worse. Thank goodness the Ravenclaws are even a little bit logical: why would a Muggle-born proclaim pure-blood ideals and attack other Muggle-born and half-bloods? She'd be signing her own death note!_

_It hasn't started yet, but it's bound to occur to someone, eventually, to suggest that Harri is actually a pure-blood who is merely _pretending_ to be a Muggle-born. How they'll explain why she would want to do that, and betray her "pure-blood" ideals, will be pure idiocy, I'm sure._

_Loudly, I declared them all idiots to think that Harri, a MUGGLE-BORN could be the Heir of Slytherin! I got a lot of glares, but several others agreed with me. Neville pointed out that she couldn't be the Heir because she was a _GIRL_. I almost hexed him, too, but I knew what he was trying to do. Slytherin House is an old House and only allows males to inherit the title. Harri is clearly a girl and ineligible. And, as I explained to several brain-dead students, I know for a fact she is girl. And that the other Gryffindor Second Years — Lavender, Fay, Lilly, Parvati, and Kellah all nodded at this — could easily back me up having seen her naked in the showers, not to mention some of the other year students who happened to be around when she walked to or from the showers sans clothes._

_I noticed a large number of the upper-year Slytherins nodding in agreement at my logic while a rare few simply stared at me without an obvious reaction. I wondered if any of them had been in that classroom meeting Harri inadvertently overheard — in which case they were thinking 'Yes, she could be the Lady of Slytherin, by Right of Conquest, and holding it for her second-born male child.'_

_The lower-year Slytherins merely made derogatory comments, laughing or scowling as their particular mood required. Good Lord, it was going to be a mess when it came out that Harri was indeed capable of inheriting a Lord's position in a House, and, in fact, was already Lord of Potter House._

_I cannot believe that the staff are doing _nothing_ to rein in the rumours and ill-will flying around Hogwarts about Harri. After the taunts of the previous six weeks and now the new petrifications, I'm surprised it hasn't erupted into open spell-wars between the Slytherins and the other Houses, and Harri in particular._

_The Headmaster could easily stop most of the rumours by simply making a few factual statements, and plainly saying Harri neither was at fault nor involved in any way with what was happening. It's almost as if he _wants_ Harri feeling lonely and isolated, and hated by the rest of the school._

_Saturday morning when we went to breakfast — I had to practically drag a protesting Harri into the Great Hall — the Slytherins didn't seem any different than on the previous few days. Malfoy was a loud-mouthed git haranguing the non-pure-blood students about how soon they would all have to leave the school or die, Parkinson was a bitch, and most of the rest were dumbly following Malfoy's lead in taunting the Muggle-borns and half-bloods. I did notice that a number of the upper-year students were quietly watching Harri and any comments they made were to close neighbors only. There did seem to be a few more of them Saturday than Friday._

_I didn't see much taunting or baiting by Slytherins during the day because there were no classes and most students stayed in their dorms – especially Harri. She almost didn't stir from her bed! Those who did leave their dorms traveled in packs that studiously avoided the other Houses. Lunch was the same as breakfast, except I did notice the number of Slytherin students taunting the other Houses had decreased. At dinner it was clear the Slytherin House was divided, most of the upper-year students had shut up and only observed. Many were scowling at their lower-years. Most of the lower-year students were still taunting the other Houses, but there were some looking back and forth between the groups, clearly unsure of what to make of the upper-years sudden attitude change._

_The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, for the most part, were just as obnoxious as they had been earlier._

_One thing is for sure, _we_ know Harri didn't leave that message, nor petrify Colin or Justin. The question is who _is_ giving that beast the commands? And why _hasn't_ the Headmaster done anything about the entrance to the Chamber that we found? And on the subject of that beast, I can't find any beast that petrifies with a look, but the Basilisk is known for killing with only a look, as happened to Myrtle. In the absence of disqualifying information, I think it is a Basilisk. Perhaps they can also petrify as well as kill, but no one has survived either condition to relay that important fact._

_I'm still convinced that Malfoy is in this up to his eyeballs and that the upper-years are simply ignoring what he says as the normal drivel he always spouts. I checked with the twins and they hadn't seen anything on their map. They were taking turns watching it during the day and at the time Justin had been petrified neither Harri nor Draco were anywhere near the spot. What did scare them though was to realize that they had seen their sister Ginny walking away just around the corner from Justin while he was talking with Nearly Headless Nick. Their sister had narrowly avoided seeing the monster and becoming a victim herself when the others were petrified! The map hadn't given any indication of that event though, it had just appeared as if the student and ghost were in a long discussion. George had even seen Harri meeting up with the petrified duo, not realizing she was discovering a new set of victims._

_So, _Operation Polyjuice_ is still on. With any luck that will get us some firm answers. Wednesday, most of the students return home for the hols, leaving only a dozen or so here, including Malfoy and his two boyfriends, as Harri calls Goyle and Crabbe. In Gryffindor, all the Weasleys are staying plus Harri and myself. I'm going to miss my parents and everything we normally do something terrible, but this is way more important._

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

_Monday, December 21__st__, 1992_

_Monday was like Friday, the students avoiding Harri as if she had the plague. The exceptions were the Slytherins. The lower-year students seemed to seek her out to taunt her on being a mud-blood and to mock the other Houses for thinking that she could be the Heir of Slytherin. Interestingly enough, I did see one or two upper-year students interrupt several of the confrontations and send the Slytherin lower-years on to their classes or back to their dorms. Once I head an upper-year student remark to the other Slytherins, "Do not presume you know more than those with more experience, or who have bothered to actually research the facts. Just because popular opinion says something does not mean it is either true or accurate. Always consider the source, and look for supporting evidence from other sources. Do not reveal your thoughts to enemies with obvious reactions." I noticed a nearby Ravenclaw look over, startled to hear such advice from a Slytherin instead of one of her upper-years._

_Well! That was a surprise._

_We spent several hours in the clubroom and managed to get a mostly complete story from Harri about what happened Friday afternoon. Neville and Ron both asked her to point out those upper-year Slytherins if she saw them again, the boys would try to identify their Houses — were they neutrals or followers of Grave-robber?_

_I think this was the first time that Harri had ever initiated a hug. We sat on the couch for a good fifteen minutes just holding her. At one point, tears were running down her cheeks. I think, I hope, she's beginning to understand that we won't just walk away and leave her alone._

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

_Wednesday, December 23__rd__, 1992_

_The train left early this morning and boy is it quiet! I never understood just how much background noise there was in the school until after the train left. Even when you think you are the only one in a corridor, you can always hear the faint sounds of other students in classrooms or from the other floors. Walking around is just plain eerie, you can hear your footsteps echoing down the corridors. You could almost believe you were the only one in the entire castle. I realized that if I stood still in the corridor for several minutes it was so quiet I could hear my heartbeat!_

_At lunch, I checked with Ginny to see if she was all right with having the entire First Year Dorm to herself. She said she didn't mind it in the slightest, after living with six brothers in a small house and then in a dorm with four other noisy, and nosey, girls, the silence of the large dorm room was quite pleasant. She said she didn't have to worry that someone would interrupt her in the middle of reading or doing her homework and ruining her concentration – and making her lose her train of thought._

_I can certainly understand that! Ron seems especially good at picking the exact right moment to say something and totally derail my thoughts when I'm working on my homework._

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

_Thursday, December 24__th__, 1992_

_Finally, the potion should be done tomorrow morning! I can hardly wait! At last we'll get the answers we need about the Heir of Slytherin._

_On another note, I've got all my presents ready to give out, and I have a small pile that my parents sent me. I'm not sure I can wait until tomorrow to open them!_

_Harri, Ron, and the Twins got a detention from Professor McGonagall for having broom races from the Great Hall entry to the top of the Astronomy Tower._

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

_Friday, December 25, 1992_

_Oh my god! I don't know how things could be worse!_

_The Polyjuice was finished early this morning, exactly on time. The three of us met in Myrtle's toilets where I carefully decanted the potion into three glasses and then saved the remainder in two other large potion bottles, carefully sealed and dated, thank you very much. I don't think I'll need them, but you can never be sure. According to the potion books, you can store Polyjuice for up to a year. Which is the least of my problems._

_What an idiot I am! It never occurred to me that the hair I took from Millicent Bulstrode might not be _her_ hair! She has a CAT! It was a CAT hair! A __**CAT**__ hair!_

_My god it's been four months since school started and I know the house-elves cleaned her robes at least fifty times. The only thing I can think is that her cat must have climbed into her trunk and slept there several times over the summer. Whenever the house-elves put her robes back, the robes must have picked up a few hairs left over from then. And the house-elves would never clean someone's trunk unless they were specifically asked to do so. How could I be so stupid!_

_And now everyone is going to laugh at me. Ron didn't help matters any, I could tell from his expression that could barely contain himself. I'm sure that as soon as he and Harri got far enough away that he collapsed into laughter. Harri, at least, looked properly upset. Although she kept reaching up to feel my ears as we walked to the Hospital Wing. I didn't dare let Ron know that a tail wasn't the only "extra" I had — cats have more than two breasts! And now I have six! Three rows of two. Thank god I still have a small chest so they aren't obvious under the hospital gown. But I'm still keeping the bed sheet pulled up to my chin!_

_And thank god Madam Pomfrey took the excuse we gave her, that we had been exploring and found this potion bottle in the dungeon. I was carrying it back to give to Professor Snape when it suddenly foamed up, blew the top off the bottle, and gave me a faceful of stuff. Fortunately, Harri and Ron quickly responded with _scourgify_, but the result was I now looked like a cat. She didn't say anything although she did frown a lot. Then she ran a few diagnostic spells and ordered me to bed._

_She said I was very lucky that the potion hadn't been something deadly, like a poison or acid, that it was only an old Polyjuice formula. And then gave me a long lecture about not handling unknown potion bottles or containers of any kind. One never knew what sort of nasty curses might be on them, that we should always use a levitation charm to move things like that safely._

_I don't think she really believed us though. After the boys left for bed, she came over to my bed and studied me quite carefully. She even checked my chest and tail, again! Then, just before she went back to her office, she said, "You know, no one has ever done a study of a subject who took Polyjuice contaminated with an animal hair. A parchment written about such an accident would definitely get published in the Potioneers Journal. They would understand if the author submitted it several years after the fact to protect the identity of the subject._

_"__In fact," she added, "an enterprising student could possibly get their NEWT in potions just after passing their OWLS based simply on that one paper getting published, regardless of the fact that the ingestion of the cat hair was accidental. The paper would have to have a complete record of the entire brewing process, the resultant potion, and the effects on the test subject, how long the effects lasted, and the timing of the fading of those effects. Any other interesting facts, especially those effecting cognitive abilities would be invaluable. If a sample of the potion, if any was left, was submitted to St. Mungos it would add that much more to the parchment's bona fides. For research papers, St. Mungos is willing to keep testing secret until publication. The book _St. Mungos — The Premier Hospital for Wizards and Witches_ gives all the pertinent information."_

_Well, knock me down with a feather! I'll have to give that some serious thought! I wonder what Professor Snape would say if he knew I had successfully brewed Polyjuice?_

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

_Saturday, December 26__th__, 1992._

_I didn't really think about it last night, but thank God the Polyjuice potion didn't give me cat's paws! While my fingernails turned into retractable claws, the rest of my fingers and hands retain their human functions, meaning I can still hold my quill and write! I would be _soo_ in trouble if I couldn't do my class and homework because I couldn't hold a quill!_

_Harri snuck back into the Hospital Wing last night and into my bed. At first I was worried she would be put-off by my changes, but instead she was fascinated. And while she liked playing with my tail, I found it a bit irritating. The closest I can pick to explain is that it's like someone stroking lightly on your hair. Okay every once in a while, but a constant pull-pull-pull, not matter how lightly done, is still very annoying._

_My extra chest accessories also fascinated her. It was really weird, but we discovered that the four extra are just as sensitive to stroking and licking as my regular breasts. It was soo embarrassing, but this _was_ in the interest of preparing my paper — I couldn't mention the extra breasts in the paper and then not describe them and say how they compared to my normal breasts. Which means, I guess, that after the potion wears off, I'll have to let Harri play with them to establish a baseline of sorts. That's going to be embarrassing, too._

_Then she spent most of the day with me. We found that I like being scratched just behind the ears and between them. I don't know why, but it is soothing. We also discovered I purr. It was most disconcerting having Harri give me a neck rub and suddenly this rumbling noise started!_

_I asked Madam Pomfrey if there were any glamour spells she knew that I could learn to hide my appearance. She didn't know of any right off hand that were within my capabilities, but she promised to ask the Headmaster if he had any thoughts on the matter. I asked Harri if she could do a little research in the clubroom and see if there were any spell books that the room could dredge up that might help. Failing that, we could always do what we did last year and use my blood on my wand to make the spell extra-powerful or long lasting. Heck, if all four of us cast the spell on me at the same time I think we could do it._

_On another note, Madam Pomfrey dropped a camera off at my bed, saying, "I know you think it's horrible what happened to you, but I think that someday you might want a picture or two to prove to your Grandchildren you really do know how a cat feels." And pictures would certainly help any article I submit!_

_I think Harri plans to sneak into my bed tonight. She seems to really like snuggling up to me. She said I was like a giant warm furry pillow that purred. Honestly, that girl!_

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

_Thursday, December 31__st__, 1992._

_Success! Harri managed to find an old charm used for Halloween celebrations. It's supposed to last for a day. Harri and Ron practiced for hours in the clubroom getting the spell down before bringing it to me. The first time Harri tried it on me, the Tuesday after Christmas, I looked like my old self for almost eight hours! When I tried it on myself I got only four hours, but when I tried the next morning with a little blood on my wand, it really worked! Harri took my wand and a small vial of my blood the night before and did the honors to the wand just before bringing it back to me. Ron distracted Madam Pomfrey by asking her a couple of questions that started her off on dangerous tricks in Quidditch so she didn't notice Harri sneaking me my wand. That time it easily lasted from breakfast all the way to dinner!_

_We did it again this morning and at noon she let me go! Hurrah!_

_Unfortunately, the glamour merely presents me as myself — I'm still furry. The problem with that is the showers! God, no wonder cats _hate_ water, it takes FOREVER for that fur to dry out completely. I mean the surface fur dries first, but my skin stays damp and uncomfortable for hours. Drying charms help a lot, but I have to be careful I don't mess up the glamour charm. I guess I'm going to have to get used to taking late night showers. If anyone catches me as a furry, I'll just say I'm practicing a charm for next Halloween._

_And just in time! Tomorrow the train brings back all the students. Nobody will be the wiser! I am soo happy! Plus, I've made very good progress recording my Polyjuice potion. When I told Harri and Ron what Madam Pomfrey had said that first night, both had encouraged me to do just that. Harri even offered to pay to have the potion checked out at St. Mungos so I wouldn't have to write my parents for the money. I can't believe it. Me, a published paper while still a student at Hogwarts! My parents will just die in shock, they'll be so proud. I'm having Harri take pictures of me every day, front and back, wearing a Muggle swimsuit so we can visually show how I'm changing as the effects fade. When my face starts to get recognizable, I'll wear a mask to hide my identity._

_Well, tomorrow will be the proof in the pudding, as my mum would say. With a judicious use of _Notice-Me-Not _charms in the dorm rooms and showers, I should be able to pull this off. Here's hoping._

_And Harri doesn't have to worry about being caught sneaking into my bed in the Hospital Wing anymore!_

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

_Friday, January 1, 1993._

_So far so good, made it easily through the welcome back feast. We dragged Nev to the Clubroom where he told us that yes, he had checked the books in the Longbottom Library, and that Harri was the Lord of Slytherin by Right of Conquest. First, he said, assuming the story of how her parents had died protecting her, and that she had somehow then destroyed Grave-robbers physical body, was correct, then she had a claim to the Slytherin House. The fact that Grave-robber was a wraith complicated things quite a bit, but the second time she had beaten him when he attempted to kill her reinforced her claim. Twice he had tried to kill her, twice she had destroyed his physical body defending herself. But if she doesn't claim it, then he gets to keep it._

_The only way to know for sure would be to visit Gringotts and have them use magic to determine if she was the new Lord of Slytherin._

_Then we brought him up to date on what had happened over the hols. He begged to see me as a cat until I finally gave in and canceled the glamour. He was suitably impressed. The Twins had seen me in the Hospital Wing, and after I hexed them quite severely they stopped making jokes about how much fun it was "petting Hermione," and asking if Harri "liked petting her new kitty."_

_They were still impressed with the extent of my transformation. They guessed that I might have gained a few other extras besides my tail. I refused to answer but I think my blushing gave it away._

_It was with some trepidation that I let them collect a few hairs. I made them promise to document every step they took using those hairs, with the warning that we didn't know if using those hairs in Polyjuice again might not result in permanently changing someone into a cat. While a prank turning someone into a cat for an hour might be funny, it wouldn't be funny if their victim never changed back!_


	22. Lord WHO?

_Note: 7/1/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**22\. Lord WHO?**

Christmas — it was the worst of times, it was the best of times.

First came the disaster with the Slytherins and discovering the latest victims of the Heir of Slytherin — but her friends stayed right with her, not backing away at all, defending her at every opportunity, to her astonishment.

There was a new flood of accusations and ridicule from the students while the Professors did _nothing_ — but the Slytherins, after an initial outburst of scorn, for the most part had quietly abandoned the field. Only Malfoy and Pansy and a few their followers persisted.

Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor students became almost intolerable with their constant hostility and pointed avoidance of Harri — but the atmosphere of near open warfare between Houses had disappeared.

The Polyjuice caper was a bust, Malfoy knew absolutely nothing about the petrifications — but the Polyjuice Potion itself was an unqualified success.

Hermione botched her part of the Polyjuice — but Hermione turned into a _catgirl_! (Shades of Batman!)

And then, yesterday, Saturday, January second, Harri, with her solicitor Andy and her godfather Sirius, discovered she was the Lord of five — FIVE — Houses: Potter (of course), Peverell (who the heck is that?), Gryffindor (Oh. My. God.), Slytherin (OH. MY. GOD.), and Gaunt (another who the heck is that?). She wasn't sure if all that was good news or bad.

The Gryffindors would be _thrilled_ to have the actual Lord of Gryffindor — well, they would say Lady — in their dorm. They would be equally _appalled _at her being Lord/Lady Slytherin! And the Slytherins! What would they do when they found out?

And Sirius had discovered she was a girl — damn that ritual! But from the way he carried on he seemed delighted to discover his godson was a goddaughter! Another situation where she wasn't sure if it was good or bad. Previous to discovering her heritage she would have said it was bad, but now? He now considered her the god of pranks! Nothing the Marauders had ever done could surpass a Gryffindor becoming the Lord of Slytherin. Nor could they come even close to matching the fact that the Boy Hero the Wizarding public adored was actually a _girl_ hiding in plain sight while they all wasted their time looking for a _boy_!

That Saturday had started simply enough. Breakfast had been quick, but left her stomach feeling a bit achy. Probably just worry about the whole Slytherin and Right of Conquest stuff. Disguised as Harry Potter, she had met her solicitor in the Headmaster's office, as prearranged earlier in the week before the other students returned. Watching her change into the Boy-Who-Lived with such simple changes had had his eyes twinkling madly.

"Amazing, Harri, how such minor alterations yield such a large change in everyone's perceptions. It makes me wonder what other items might be in plain sight that we simply overlook because they don't meet our preconceived notions." He shook his head, smiling.

The smile slowly faded, though. "Unfortunately, my child," he continued seriously, "I have been unable to find a way to reverse the temporary measures I made so many years ago. Even using my full magical power I fear I would be unable to convince your magic to return you to what you were before. And to attempt such brute force might cause you permanent, maybe even fatal, harm. Please accept my sincere apologies; it was never my intent to produce such a long-lasting modification in your appearance. If I had thought such a thing as this were possible, I would have severely reduced the spell's time-frame to a mere year or so, and then checked to make sure it had expired as desired.

"If there is anything you determine I can do to ease your situation, please feel free to ask. If it is within my power, and prudent, I will do it."

Harri could tell he was truly sorry about how she had become a girl. And he meant it when he said he would help her to the best of his ability in fixing that error from long ago. It didn't excuse the way he had stolen her mail and failed to check up on her, though. Nor his apparent disregard for the safety of the students last year. She nodded, however, manners dictated she acknowledge what he had said, "Thank you, Sir. I'll keep that in mind."

She turned to her solicitor — god, she still loved to say that word — "I believe we're ready, Ma'am."

Andy had told the Headmaster that it was for a business meeting that she couldn't miss at Gringotts. As Harriet Potter's solicitor, she had limited privileges, but she was well within those privileges to take Harri from school for legitimate business and family concerns.

Harri had the impression that the Headmaster would have said no but for the stink Andy could raise about his refusing to let Harri meet with her solicitor for a business meeting. The Headmaster was still recovering, politically, from the whole fiasco of Troll and possessed professor from last year, and he desperately didn't want anyone to begin delving into the petrifications and Chamber of Secrets this year, Harri knew. She figured that he thought that if he could make it through the year without anyone discovering what was really happening in the school that he could then bury it all and no one would be the wiser — after all, what adult listened to kids?

So, the two of them floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron where they met Lord Black. She was getting along with him much better now, especially after putting the Weasley twins in contact with him. She had pretended to ignore any of their communications, knowing exactly whose owl it was that kept landing at their place-setting during breakfast every week or so. The pranks, about one a week, had become much more complicated in execution, but weren't mean-spirited or aimed at any one person or House — such as charming everyone's hair to their House colors on a Quidditch game day or making all the boys' voices an octave higher while making the girls' an octave lower.

The walk to Gringotts was enthusiastic on Sirius' part as he grilled her on her Christmas hol's. They managed to avoid a crush of admirers by using a small avoidance charm that made people look but not want to approach her, it made them feel uneasy at actually talking with her. Several of the more powerful wizards and witches managed to ignore that subtle message and say hello, or walk up and shake her hand. A mild _muffliato_ concealed their conversation from casual eavesdroppers.

She brought Lord Black up to date on the Chamber of Secrets. His reaction to her invasion of the Slytherin Commons was one of awe, saying, "Not even the Marauders managed to sneak in there!"

After promising to tell no one, he burst into laughter at hearing that Hermione had turned herself into a cat-person. Andy gave her a wide-eyed look of surprise, nodding in approval as Harri explained how Hermione was putting together a research paper for publication based on the whole experience. And how they managed to hide her condition from everyone else. She left out mentioning that they used blood-magic to assist them.

Harri walked up the main lobby and stopped at the first available teller. "Griphook, please," she said. He sneered at them, but a moment later a runner appeared to lead them to her favorite Goblin.

Griphook wasted no time, having prepared things beforehand. He led them immediately to Slicehand's office. As the manager of the Potter House accounts he should be included in Lineage testing.

Less than a minute after entering Slicehand's office the black-haired girl was dripping three drops of blood onto what the Goblin called a Lineage Parchment that was on Slicehand's desk. The others flanked her on either side.

The ink immediately started flowing across the parchment, forming letters that became words and names. But it hadn't stopped after two Houses, oh no it did not.

First came Potter, with the notation _Patrilineal_ — no surprises there. The second name started to appear and she thought, _Oh, god, the Slytherins were right, I AM the Lord of Slytherin!_ But the first letter wasn't an 'S' but another 'P' And then an 'e', and then a 'v', and it kept going until the name Peverell appeared, again with the notation _Patrilineal_.

"Peverell?" said Sirius, looking at the other two, puzzled. "Peverell? Prongs never said anything about a Peverell in his lineage." He paused, frowning in thought, "Where have I heard that name before, I know I have."

Harri had never heard the name, and didn't care. She just wanted to know if she was Lord Slytherin. Sirius was still muttering about the name being familiar, but that quickly halted as another name formed — Gryffindor! Again, the notation said _Patrilineal_.

"Gryffindor?" yelled Sirius, Peverell forgotten in the surprise. "Gryffindor! Prongs never mentioned being Lord of Gryffindor!"

_Bloody hell!_ Was Harri's reaction. That was as big a shock as hearing she might be Lord Slytherin by Right of Conquest, except she had never battled and beaten anyone related to Gryffindor. How had this happened? Was her family truly related to the great Lord Gryffindor?

"It's possible he never knew," murmured Slicehand, "And why should he? His father would have told him if he were Lord of any additional Houses. As would his father. Perhaps someone deliberately hid that knowledge. Neither ring has left Gringotts for over half a millennia." They forgot that mystery as the blood continued to form letters. They all stared intently at the parchment as another name slowly formed.

Just as she had feared, the letter 'S' formed, followed by and 'l' then a 'y.' Her stomach started to hurt as the name Slytherin slowly appeared on the parchment confirmed her fears. She sank back into the center chair in front Slicehand's desk. The notation following the name said _By Right of Conquest_.

"Slytherin?" Sirius' voice went _up_ an octave. "Really? He did it? Slytherin? My godson is Lord Slytherin?" He stared at the parchment, then Harri, and back, astonished. "Bloody shagging hell!"

Another name formed below Slytherin, Gaunt. It also said _By Right of Conquest_.

"Gaunt. Don't know any Gaunts. Anybody know of any Gaunts?" said Sirius distractedly, still bemused by the not quite unexpected discovery of Slytherin. He looked at Harri and Andy. Harri was clueless, and shrugged. She was still stuck on the twin revelations of Gryffindor and Slytherin. Her solicitor shook her head, no.

"The Slytherin and Gryffindor rings are here," said Slicehand, grabbing a parchment and writing something down before snapping his fingers to make it disappear. "They will be here shortly." He wrote another note, and snapped his fingers again. "The account books for all four Houses will be here soon, as well."

He looked pleased at the prospect of adding the vaults of four additional Houses to his portfolio.

"The other two Lordship rings will require a special rite to fetch them from wherever they reside." He looked over at Griphook. "Make the arrangements." Griphook nodded and hurried out of the room.

Slicehand pulled an accounting book from the shelf behind him, opened it, and set to work, ignoring the wizard and witches. It would take a lot of work to reconcile the books of the four Houses with each other, especially if there were any cross-debts or contractual obligations between them.

To Harri's left sat Sirius while Mrs. Tonks took the one on the right.

Sirius stared at Harri, grinning. "You don't do things by half, do you?" She could hear the humour in his voice. "You don't merely have the Lordship of two Houses, quite an achievement for any Wizard, you have five! And two of them haven't been seen for I don't know how long." He shook his head. "Merlin! What would Prongs have done if he had known he was Lord Gryffindor?"

Andromeda made a strangled noise. "Merlin! He was insufferable most of the time already. That would have made him absolutely impossible to live with!" She shuddered. "He truly would have made the Slytherins' lives hell on Earth."

"Oh, come on, we weren't that bad!" Sirius protested.

Andy glared back at him, "Yes. Yes, you were that bad! I have Slytherin friends and the stories they told me made me ashamed, sometimes, that you were my cousin. And James was worse. He had no qualms picking on Firsties when he was in Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Years. By every definition in the book, he and you were bullies!" She paused to stare him down, daring him to contradict her. "It was only after his parents died that he stopped the bullying. And it wasn't by accident that that was when Lily stopped yelling at him and they started to date.

"And only _then_ did he provide a brake on you in Seventh Year!"

"Yeah," Sirius groused, "He was no fun at all most of the time that year."

"Well, you two, and your two friends, did more to aggravate the antagonism between the Slytherins and Gryffindors than anyone else. And the Slytherins that you tormented in the years below you took their revenge on the younger Gryffindors just as soon as you left Hogwarts!

"Madam Pomfrey told me that for years after you left three-quarters of the Gryffindors that ended up in Hospital with her were the victims of _your_ victims taking revenge.

"A fine legacy _that_ is!" she concluded.

Harri stared at her godfather in horror. He was just like Dudley, picking on those too weak to protect themselves! She felt herself shifting in her chair to get farther away from him, if only by just a tiny bit.

Sirius, seeing her reaction, desperately said, "But it was all in good fun!"

"Good fun doesn't end in broken bones, near maiming, or extreme public humiliation!" she retorted. "If the person pranked can't see the humour in what happened to them, then it wasn't a prank, it was bullying! Can you see yourself saying today, 'remember when that Slytherin bloke broke my leg in three places he tripped me on the stairs? Wasn't that funny?'"

Shamefaced, he looked down, muttering, "We were just kids . . . ."

"And so were they!"

He sighed unhappily, "We didn't know any better."

"You were both Heirs to major Houses, you _should_ have known better! And I know for a fact the Professors gave you enough detentions for those pranks that you should have _learned_ that lesson!"

He subsided into a sulky silence, leaving Harri to wonder just what kind of man her father had been. None of the pranks he had told her about so far at Hogwarts had been as terrible as the descriptions given by her solicitor seemed to indicate. Had he been "forgetting" the worse ones to make himself appear better to his daughter? Why hadn't her mother told her these things? Was she protecting her husband, or because she loved him had she "forgotten" his worse offences? There were going to be a few serious discussions in the next few nights. In the meantime, she was going to reduce the time she spent with Lord Black until she could come to terms with what she had learned.

The arrival of the accounting books broke the awkward atmosphere that had enveloped the three. They waited impatiently as the Goblin perused the three books on his desk before sitting back and staring at them for several minutes. Finally he started speaking, summarizing what he had read.

"House Peverell," he said, touching a thin book with only a few pages that had taken him less than a minute to examine, "has nothing in the way of heirlooms, property, land, or money. Whatever the House may have had, has been either subsumed into Potter House or distributed to the daughters married into other Houses centuries ago." He pushed the book aside while making a notation in the Potters' account book. "The ring and the House's seat on the Wizengamot are the only tangible remains."

He pointed at the next book, which had taken only a bit longer for him to examine and was barely an inch thick. "House Gaunt is nearly poverty-stricken. If not for an investment in _The Daily Prophet_ there would be no gold whatsoever in the vault. The only property is the main house, a nearby shack, and the caretaker's residence. The property and land have lain fallow and unused for forty-nine years, seven months, and seventeen days, with only an elderly caretaker in residence." He set the book aside.

The third book was much thicker and had taken the Goblin fifteen minutes to read. "The accounts for Slytherin and Gryffindor are combined in this book," he stated. "They are neither destitute nor property-less. While they have only one property, in joint ownership, it is one of the most important properties in Wizarding England." He paused and gave Harri a long look. "It is Hog Strath, better known as the valley that encloses Hogwarts and the farms and ranches that help support the school.

"Hogsmeade is included in that property. The families there, and their businesses, lease their buildings and property from the School. The two Houses' vaults are combined and strictly used for funding Hogwarts. Slytherin is used for the physical upkeep and supplies while Gryffindor is split between salaries, scholarships, and other items. Their known family Heirlooms should still be in the school."

Harri sat in her chair, stunned into silence.

"Wait a minute," Sirius said. "You mean to say Harry, here, _owns_, actually, _owns_ half of Hogwarts?"

By her expression, Mrs. Tonks was equally stunned.

"Of course," sneered Goblin Account Manager Slicehand, "Did you think Houses Slytherin and Gryffindor had no stake in the school that bears their names?"

"But the Ministry has always maintained they controlled Hogwarts!" said Andy. "That's the whole point of the Board of Governors."

The Goblin rolled his eyes. "And of course the Ministry has never embellished the truth to their advantage, have they?" he sneered at her.

She owned half the school. She _owned_ half the school! She _OWNED HALF THE SCHOOL!_

"Lord Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Gaunt-Slytherin. . . ," said the Goblin.

_Jesus god_, absently thought Harri, _what a mouthful._

"Just to make it clear to the slow-witted," he flicked his eyes back and forth between Sirius and Andy to indicate he didn't mean her.

"You own half of Hogwarts, and according to the charter," he thumped his hand on a folder he had removed from the Gryffindor/Slytherin book, "with two Houses now in Lordship, the Board of Bovernors are reduced to a simple advisory capacity. For all intents and purposes, your word is law in that school."

She stared at him. "But first I would have to reveal myself as Lords Slytherin and Gryffindor, wouldn't I?"

He stared back her. Picking his words carefully, he said, "You _could_ assign a proxy, name someone to carry out your decrees for you."

"How would we . . . set that up? Why should anyone believe my . . . my proxy is telling the truth?"

"Wizard's Oath. And a Proxy Proclamation."

She studied the Goblin. He stared back expressionlessly. Sirius and Andy stared at both of them.

The Hogwarts education, in many ways, was lacking. Math skills beyond the basic four were ignored. Literature might as well not exist. English and Grammar, needed to support proper communication, were never mentioned. Cooking classes did not exist (not everyone was a Pure-blood with a House-elf). Economics and budgeting, which you had to understand if you wanted to earn a living and support yourself, were noticeable by their absence. And what of art, music, chorus, dance, and theater? Not even as electives? Come to think of it, why weren't there any photography, chess, foreign language, or other clubs?

And Professor Binns. While a ghost as a teacher sounded cool, in actual practice it was boring and didn't work very well. Then there was Mr. Filch. Why was there someone who so clearly detested children in a school? And why was someone who couldn't do magic cleaning the castle when magic so obviously worked better and faster? The man had been there for decades, so it couldn't be a whim. There _had_ to be a reason.

"Let's delay the announcement of my new Lordships as long as possible, shall we?" she finally said. "Just as we did with the Potter Lordship."

Slicehand grinned evilly. "I shall send the paperwork to Ministry, after it goes through the proper internal Gringotts channels. It will join the other missives from Gringotts that have been moldering in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for the past century."

He frowned. "The Lineage books in the Ministry will reflect the change that Lord Potter is now Lord Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Gaunt-Slytherin." He grinned maliciously, "However no one will notice until something else draws their attention to it, such as when you assign proxy to Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"And Dumbledore will know things have changed when you return. When you enter the castle, the protective enchantments will link to you. They remain under Dumbledore's control unless you specifically override him."

"He will know I have control of them?" She started to panic. That would throw a major spanner into her plans.

"No, just that something has changed. You own the castle, the enchantments will acknowledge that. They won't reveal who you are to Dumbledore unless you allow that information to pass to him. As owner, you are his superior."

She relaxed. "I don't know anything about protective enchantments."

"The basic knowledge will come from the enchantments themselves."

"Do you know any good books about protective enchantments? Or someone who could teach me?"

"This summer, for a reasonable cost, you could be tutored by a Goblin."

She nodded. "Let's do that."

Slicehand grunted, and started an in-depth examination of the Hogwarts books.

She, Sirius, and Andy spent the next few minutes talking about Hogwarts. They understood her desire to replace Professor Binns and add a few additional electives, but didn't quite understand what she meant about clubs.

A Goblin entered the room, interrupting them, carrying two small boxes which he placed on Slicehand's desk. Slicehand pushed them over to Harri. Harri picked up the closest and opened it. It was the Slytherin ring. The shield, surmounted by a helmet and wrapped in fancy filigree, was a green emerald with a silver snake coiling for a strike engraved in it. A banner declaring Slytherin adorned the bottom of the shield. The snake appeared to her to be looking at her, judging her. Frowning at the creature, she slowly slid the ring onto her finger. As soon as she let go, it resized itself for a perfect fit beside her Potter House ring. The snake no longer was looking at her.

The other box held the Gryffindor ring. Like the other ring, it had a shield with a helmet above, fancy filigree on the top and sides, and a banner declaring Gryffindor underneath. The shield was divided into red and gold quarters with a lion over them standing on its hind legs, forelegs raised, and roaring. Again, it seemed as if the lion was watching her. She put on the ring.

The other two spent a moment admiring the rings she now displayed on her finger. Then they returned to what to do about Hogwarts. If she really had control of the protective enchantments, would she be able to find the monster that was petrifying students? Perhaps she could order the castle's suit of armour to attack it? At the very least, she could place a suit of armour in every corridor so that nothing could happen without being seen.

They were again interrupted when Griphook returned and announced the room for recovering the "lost" rings was ready.

After a short Vault Cart ride — for some reason this trip left her stomach somewhat unsettled — that took them deep underground, Griphook led them to a room carved out of the rock. They were met at the door by a Goblin who did not give them his name.

"Stand there," the taciturn Goblin ordered, pointing at a circle carved into the stone floor inside an even larger circle. Harri noticed that the circle lines for both were actually a series of very tiny repeating runes. Her eyes widened at the thought of the number of hours it must have taken to chisel such small characters into the rock. Andy and Sirius stood at the wall by the door in another circle outside the ones in which Harri stood.

The Goblin tossed two parchments into a second circle in front of Harri, but still inside the larger one. On one parchment was the Peverell House Coat of Arms while on the other was Gaunt House.

"Hand," came the terse order. Harri reluctantly held out her left hand. He grabbed it tightly in one hand and with a quick slice opened her palm. He held her hand as it rapidly dripped blood into a half-pint-sized vial. When the vial was full, a matter of only a minute, he released her hand. Harri immediately flicked out her wand to close the wound, but the Goblin said, "NO MAGIC!"

She resentfully put her wand back and then gripped her bleeding hand in the other as tight as she could to stem the blood. She felt a bit light-headed and dizzy, but resisted the urge to sit down.

"Stay!" the Goblin ordered as he carefully poured a portion of her blood into the runes that made up her circle. Blood dripped from her hand to the floor, each drop sparking with light as it hit. The runes began to glow dimly as the blood swiftly flowed around her.

"I'm not a dog," she muttered sourly as she watched him do the same to the circle with the parchments. He stepped out of the larger circle and poured the rest of her blood in its runes.

As soon as her blood completed its circuit of the larger circle, all three circles blazed into brilliant bright light and then went dark.

Harri tried blinking away the after images of the three circles. The Goblin, knowing what was to happen, had closed his eyes and retained his normal vision. Through the still glowing afterimages of the three circles she saw him bend down to pick up the two rings in the circle, but he stopped with his hand mere inches from them. He tilted his head slightly, looking at them. He waved his hand slowly over the rings, then studied them some more.

The others remained where they were, unsure if it was safe to leave their present positions.

Finally, he picked up one ring while using magic to lift the other. He tossed the one ring to her, saying, "Peverell."

He dropped the other into a pouch. "This one is heavily cursed," he said holding up the pouch.

"You can move," he sneered at them as he strode to the door. "Take them back," he ordered the Goblin at the door as he left them behind.

Sirius was beside her in an instant casting a quick healing spell followed by a thorough _Scourgify_. Harri didn't notice as she was staring at the new ring. It had a blue shield with three sheaves of wheat on it. Filigree surrounded the shield on the top and the sides, with the banner Peverell underneath. As soon as she let go, it resized itself for a perfect fit beside her other rings.

She was going to have to talk with her wizard traditions tutor to understand what having so many Lordships meant in practical terms.

Ah! There was a needed class: for the Muggle-borns a class in Wizard Traditions and Etiquette. Such a class might prevent much of the conflict at Hogwarts. More than once she seen a Pure-blood or Half-blood storm off in outrage at some seemingly innocent Muggle-born statement or action, insisting they had been grievously insulted, and generating much ill-will between them and the Muggle-born.

Her solicitor took her by the elbow and steered her to the door as she stared at her many rings. She felt a bit unsteady and appreciated the steadying influence of the woman's hand. Griphook handed her a potion bottle as she arrived at the door, "Drink."

The awful taste of the potion told her she had forgotten to hold her nose first, but as soon as the liquid hit her stomach she felt better. It was a blood-replenisher. Her mind felt clearer as well. The shock of the blood loss had not been insignificant.

By the time they had returned to Slicehand's office the Goblins had apparently learned much about the last ring.

"The Gaunt Lordship ring is cursed multiple times with truly evil spells," Slicehand said as they entered the room. "It has resisted all attempts to remove them.

"One of the curses has made the ring a Soul Vessel," he made an expression of revulsion. "A vile piece of work. The only way to destroy it is with _Fiendfyre_."

She, Sirius, and Andy exchanged looks. There had been one other item that they knew of that could only be destroyed with _Fiendfyre_. Had it also been a Soul Vessel?

"To create a new ring," the Goblin continued, "will cost more than the value of the estate. A waste of gold."

He paused. "I suggest you formally absorb the estate into one of the others. We will destroy the ring. Such vileness should not be allowed to exist."

Sirius spoke first, beating Harri to the question. "What's a Soul Vessel?

The goblin looked at them a moment. "A Soul Vessel contains a portion of someone's soul. Dark Wizards and Witches have used them to try to gain immortality. If you place a portion of your soul in a Soul Vessel and your physical body is destroyed, the Soul Vessel will prevent you from passing on. If you have loyal followers, they can use a special rite to give you back a physical body."

"Merlin," whispered Sirius, echoed his cousin. The three exchanged glances. If the locket was a Soul Vessel, then they knew how Voldemort had managed to survive long enough to possess Professor Quirrell. If the locket had been his only one, then Voldemort would truly be gone.

And if the ring really was one, then he had created more than just one, and so he was still wandering the world as a wraith. How many _had_ he created? If only these two, then destroying the ring would rid the world of his presence. How long would it take for them to know if he was destroyed?

But if he had made more, then how many? And if he _did_ succeed in returning, then killing him again solved nothing, he would simply keep returning until they destroyed all his Soul Vessels.

Which meant Harri could look forward to that horrid creature coming after her again and again and again!

"I want to watch," said Harri. If the same black smoke, face, and screaming came from the ring that they had heard from the locket, then that would confirm their suspicions about the locket.

An hour later, the three of them were back in Slicehand's office. Harri sat in her chair rolling the small, engraved stone around in her hand. The emblem carved into the stone was not a standard Coat of Arms. She had expected something like the other rings, with a shield, filigree, and some kind of design. But what was this? What did it signify? An equilateral triangle, enclosing a circle, with vertical line dropping from the apex and dividing both in half. Had this always been the Lordship Ring for the Gaunts? If not, then when had they changed? She sighed and dropped the stone into her pocket. Whatever Family enchantments had been on the ring, they were now gone, destroyed when the _Fiendfyre_ had melted the gold mount and broken their integrity.

She would have to talk with Andy to see if there was a political reason not to absorb the Gaunt House into one of the others. If not, then which house would be best, and did it really matter, anyway?

Whatever other enchantments had been on the ring, it was the Soul Vessel portion that took their attention. Exactly as the locket, the ring had billowed forth smoke that formed a face, the same one they had seen from the locket, and then screamed as the _Fiendfyre_ ate it. The locket had been a Soul Vessel, meaning Voldemort, Grave Robber, was probably still "alive" somewhere. Not as a ghost, but as a wraith that could be made physical once more. They would only know for sure when he made another appearance.

Sirus had been staring at her for several minutes during her mushings. She assumed his silence had been him thinking on the problem, and the same for Andy. What did all this mean to them? To her?

Sirus suddenly bolted to his feet, pointing his finger at her, "You're a girl!"

She stared back him wide-eyed in surprise.

"I knew something was different today, I just couldn't put my finger on it!" He leaned closer, studying her face and hair and taking a sniff, then sat back in his chair. "Yes, you're a girl," he said with glee.

She continued to stare at him, her mind scrambling to come up with an excuse to explain . . . what? How had he guessed?

He smiled broadly. "Your hair. It was short when you arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, now it's past shoulder-length. Your glasses are gone. And, finally, I've been a Grim for a very long time, and my sense of smell is quite acute. I hit you with a quite thorough _Scourgfy_ in that chamber down below and yet I can still smell a bit of blood about you. So you are either having a monthly or are about to start one," he concluded smugly.

Reflexively she touched her hair, pulling it forward to see it when she shouldn't have been able to. She had hidden it behind a simple charm before floo'ing. Her fringe had fallen back down, concealing that bedamned scar. She couldn't see the edges of her glasses anymore.

Bloody hell! That rite to retrieve the rings must have canceled her charms and reset the runes on her glasses. She touched the glasses, making them visible once again, but couldn't do anything about her hair unless Slicehand gave her permission to do wand-work in Gringotts.

And the monthlies? She hadn't started those yet. Or did he mean to say she was about to start them and just didn't know yet? That might explain her mild upset stomach after breakfast and the cart rides today. Double and triple damn!

The grin slowly faded from Sirius' face. "Okay. Explain. You're a Potter or you'd be dead with that ring on your finger. But the Harry Potter I knew as a baby was a boy. . . most definitely a boy. You're not. It can't be Polyjuice because you can't use Polyjuice to change your gender. And that rite canceled your glamours."

Andi exchanged looks with Harri for a long moment.

Harri sighed and slumped back into her chair. Slicehand was watching even as he worked on his books. Griphand, too, was paying attention as he meticulously went about blending the Gaunt book into the Potter House book.

Slowly, haltingly, she explained what she knew about how she came to end up as a girl.

To put it mildly, Lord Black was furious when she finished. If it weren't for his cousin telling him that if he didn't control himself he would ruin everything they were trying to do, he would have left immediately to mete out a little punishment to one old meddling wizard. Not to mention what he would do to the Dursleys!

Almost as fast as he had exploded into anger, he calmed down. Then he stared at her for several moments before suddenly bursting into laughter.

Harri was beginning to think the wizard had lost his mind until he began explaining, in between bouts of laughter, what was so funny.

"Harri — can I still call you Harri? — it's just the ultimate prank on wizards. Their savior, the one they look up to, the one they've practically worshiped for the last eleven years, is a _girl_. Boys have been dreaming about being the famous Boy-Who-Lived for a decade, dreaming of the things they could do if only they were him. Girls have been dreaming of being his wife for just as long, for many of the same reasons. And if they knew the truth they would run away as fast as they could! The boys will be horrified at the thought of being a _girl_, the girls will be horrified at the thought of being married to a _GIRL_!

"And the backlash on good old Fumbledick when the truth comes out will be stupendous! The kids will blame _him_ for their ruined dreams. The parents will be outraged at him for hoodwinking them for over a decade. He'll be lucky if they don't lynch him from the nearest lamppost!" The man subsided into giggles.

"And your Lordships will drive the Wizengamot potty! The rings _prove_ you're a Lord — the Ladyship rings are much different — they'll have to treat you as one of the most powerful and rich Lords in the nation while it's patently obvious that you are a Lady! They'll tie themselves into knots trying to get the etiquette right.

"And because you're a Lord you can make their lives miserable by asking for marriage contracts.

"A Lord cannot marry another man; neither can a Lady marry a woman. But you're a Lord, even though you are a Lady, so you can marry a woman, but _not_ a man. And they _can't_ stop you! Their own ancient laws and traditions won't let them.

"Let's see, with five Lordships you can have five wives, one for each House, not to mention concubines. It will burn their arses to see you offer Slytherin or Gryffindor or Potter to any non-Pure-blood, but to see their daughters married to another woman? Oh, the shame!

"Watch, just you watch, I'll bet even the most hide-bound will swallow their Pure-blood ideals and pride and consent to such a marriage. And they'll have to pretend to smile and be gracious at all times when they really want to spit and scream in rage. Oh, such wonderful chaos!

"Merlin, I can hardly wait!" He drifted off into his own world, giggling.

Harri and Andy looked at each other for a long time.

Married? She hadn't even started her monthlies and Sirius wanted her married to five, _five_, wives? And concubines? Befuddled, she shook her head.

Being married to Hermione might be nice, especially if she kept a few of those cat attributes after the Polyjuice wore off, but would Hermione say yes? She sighed, somehow she didn't think that Hermione would be quite as happy with the arrangement as she would be.

If only there were a way for her to be a boy or man. Polyjuice would work for an hour or so, but not as her being Harry Potter. She would be someone else. Or would she? Did Polyjuice turn you into another person? Or did it turn you into someone who _looked_ like another person? If she took Polyjuice and became, say, Fred Weasley, and had sex with, say, Hermione, would she be able to get Hermione pregnant? And if she did, would the child be a Weasley or a Potter? How would you test that? She would ask Hermione. If anyone could get the right answer, it would be her.

"Harri? Harri?"

She blinked, she hadn't realized she had been lost in her thoughts so thoroughly. She looked over at her solicitor.

"I believe we have accomplished everything we can at this point. We should probably head back to Hogwarts."

Sirius checked his watch, "How about we have lunch first? Perhaps a second stroll through Diagon Alley by the famous Boy-Who-Lived with his Godfather Lord Black and his solicitor Andromeda Tonks will shake a few people up, let them know Harry really is alive and well. Make them wonder what the Boy-Who-Lived was doing in Gringotts that took four hours." His eyes practically sparkled at the thought of fooling people, pretending his goddaughter was a boy.

It was a bit early in the afternoon and they had skipped lunch in all the rushing about Gringotts with rites and destroying Soul Vessels.

They took a private dining room for their lunch, neatly avoiding the crush of the curious public, and the paparazzi-like vultures, er reporters and photographers, of the Daily Prophet.

Afterwards, rather than take the floo directly to the Headmaster's Office, where the sudden reaction of the protective enchantments would immediately disclose to the meddling Headmaster the identity of the castle's enchantments new master, they decided to go to Hogsmeade instead. A quick stop at the Owl Post Office led to the sending of several messages from all three to Hogwarts.

They made a quick stop at Honeydukes Sweetshop. Mrs. Tonks distracted the owners, Mr. Flume and his wife, while Sirius and Harri snuck into the backroom. A Confundus Charm helped in the effort.

Once in the backroom, Sirius took her down the trapdoor into the tunnel underneath and Harri went on to Hogwarts. She reached the bottom of the stairs that led to the secret exit and pulled out the mirror Sirius had given her. It was just like the metal plates they had used last year, except it was linked to another mirror that Sirius carried. He had fetched them from his home before they had left The Leaky Cauldron.

She tapped it with her wand and said, "I'm in." A moment later the mirror vibrated and she heard Sirius say, "Excellent, see you in fifteen." She quickly climbed the stairs.

She peered cautiously around the one-eyed witch, making sure the coast was clear. She pulled out her invisibility cloak, slipped under it, and headed out. She needed to meet her friends at the front gate to maintain the illusion that she had remained in the presence of the two adults.

Luck was with her, as Hermione, Neville, and Ron were just leaving the castle when she reached the front doors. It only took a short run for her to catch up with them and shadow them to the main gate where she saw Sirius and Andi slowly sauntering up with her cloak suspended between them, the school cloak moving as if someone were walking in it. No one would notice that there wasn't a face inside the hood, a minor _look-away_ spell would keep spectators from seeing inside the hood.

Sirius had shown her the animation spell. The spells on her cloak had prevented him from doing much of anything to it. He just guided the cloak by keeping one hand on the back.

From long experience as a Marauder, Sirius knew how to time his paces so that they didn't arrive at the gate too soon.

Hagrid, coming from his hut where Sirius' owl had found him, approached the gate, calling out heartily to Sirius. Sirius distracted the big man as he opened the gate to let them enter, and her friends crowded close to Andi as she stepped in front of the animated cloak. Quickly, Harri grabbed her cloak and slid it over her invisibility cloak as her friends and Andi blocked direct view of the cloak from the castle. Once she had her cloak on, she flipped the invisibility cloak's hood back, tucking it underneath her school cloak. As long as she kept her outside cloak closed, no one would know she had on an invisibility cloak.

Several other students in the vicinity noticed the slight commotion at the main gates and wandered over as Sirius and Hagrid boisterously talked about former school days after the half-giant closed the gate. Mrs. Tonks made a big deal about handing over a box of Honeydukes Sweetshop confectionaries to Hermione as a present to them all from Harri. Ron lost no time in appropriating the box and helping himself to one of the chocolate goodies inside.

Harri had to smile at his expression of pure delight at the first bite, it reminded her of the expressions of some of her clients at the hotel as they climaxed. It was so incongruous! But if that was his reaction to such a sinful snack, might that explain his obsession with eating? Was regular food just foreplay and chocolate better than sex for him? It would explain much. She giggled at the thought.

Harri's friends had been in the library waiting to hear back from her about her trip to Gringotts when the owl had found them with the message to meet her at the gate as she would be there soon.

If they had not made it in time it wouldn't have been a disaster, but it would have made their charade a good bit more difficult to pull off. As it was, they managed to leave everyone with impression that Harri had only just come onto the school grounds that moment. The Headmaster, having felt the change to the school protective enchantments half-an-hour previously, would never suspect Harri was responsible because, quite clearly, she had only just entered the enchantments. And that was at least an hour after they had left Gringotts, according to one of his Order of the Phoenix associates who had consented to watch for the three that morning. Even her friends didn't suspect she had followed them from the castle.

The Headmaster met the four students and Mrs. Tonks at the front doors. He smiled, eyes twinkling, then said, "I trust you had a successful meeting?"

"Yes, quite," was her solicitor's response. "House Potter is richer now than it was this morning. Harri and I thank you for allowing us to conduct this business on such short notice." She pulled a small bag out of her pocket. "Please accept this small token of our appreciation." She handed him the bag of miniature Baby Ruth bars.

His eyes twinkled even more. "Why thank you Mrs. Tonks, Miss Potter. I do love these Muggle candies." He stowed the bag in a pocket. "Might I ask what the business entailed?"

Mrs. Tonks smiled back, "Nothing that concerns yourself, Headmaster, just tying up some loose financial ends that required Miss Potter's actual presence." She turned and smiled down at Harri. "Well, I got you back all in one piece and well under curfew time, so I'll take your leave now. Goodbye Headmaster, Miss Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley." She turned and strode off back to the main gate, where Sirius and Hagrid were still talking amid a growing number of curious listeners. From the occasional laughter that rang out from the group, the stories were quite entertaining.

The Headmaster turned to Harri. "I hope the business wasn't too boring, Miss Potter."

"No sir. Actually, it was quite interesting and educational. I learned quite a few new things about my businesses." She paused. "And had an idea for a new one."

They all looked at her, intrigued.

"But it's a secret until I get the bugs out of it."

"It's got bugs in it?" asked Ron.

Hermione hit him on the arm, lightly, "Not those kind of bugs. She means there are details that need to be fixed before the idea will work."

"Oh." Ron nodded knowingly, then cut his eyes to Harri and rolled them.

The Headmaster laughed merrily, "Muggles have such a rich variety of sayings." He turned to head back inside, "Carry on children, enjoy the rest of the day's warmth."

They answered with a chorus of "Yes sir."

They turned and headed down the steps. As soon as they were sure they were far enough away, at least a hundred yards, Hermione casted a quick _finite_ on their clothes. She worried that the old coot might have tried to sneak a listening or tracking charm on any of them. Their cloaks, with the defensive spells they had placed on them, should have easily repelled any such attempt, but it was always better to be safe.

She followed it up with silencing charm to give them privacy. Harri paused a moment, then casted one herself, just for her peace of mind.

"Okay, spill!" demanded Hermione, leaning forward anxiously.

"Yeah," said Ron, "What's this new idea?" He reached inside the Honeydukes box and retrieved another chocolate covered delight.

Hermione hit him again, frowned, and grabbed the box back. She handed it to Neville who immediately raided its treasure for a chocolate snack as well.

Harri turned to face them and held out her hand. They crowded closer, blocking anyone else's view of what they were seeing.

"Meet the new Lord Gryffindor," she said.

"Blimey!" Ron sat down abruptly. The other followed suit a moment later. "Gryffindor?" He repeated incredulously staring at the ring on her finger enviously.

She nodded. "And the new Lord Slytherin."

"No way!" "You're Barmy!"

They stared at the two rings on her finger.

"By Right of Conquest?" whispered Hermione.

"Yeah," Harri said drily.

"Three Lordships?" Neville squeaked nervously.

"No."

"More?"

She nodded yes morosely.

"How many?" asked Hermione.

Harri sighed, "Five. Two more I never heard of, Peverell and Gaunt."

Hermione frowned. "Peverell," she said reflectively. "Where I have heard that name before?"

"Sirius said the same thing."

"Five," said Ron. "Bloody hell. . . ."

"Language, Ron," Hermione said distractedly.

"You get five and I don't even have one." He shook his head.

"I'll trade you Ron," Harri said. "your family and being a boy for my rings, vaults, and being a girl."

Ron shuddered. "Bloody hell, what a cock up." Apparently, the riches were out-weighed by the prospect of being a girl.

"You're telling me!" She understood perfectly.

They stared at the rings, all of which were now visible.

"Where's the fifth one? I only see four," said Neville.

"The Gaunt ring had a problem. It was horribly cursed and the Goblins destroyed it trying to remove the curses."

"Blimey," exclaimed Ron, looking impressed. "Those must have been some curses!"

"They were." She shuddered, remembering the smoky face screaming its death.

"Being Lord Gryffindor and Slytherin," said Hermione, "what's that really mean?"

Harri looked at her. "It means I own half of Hogwarts. And Hogwarts knows it."

They stared at her speechlessly.

"The enchantments protecting the school . . . they reacted when I walked through them."

Hermione asked numbly "Reacted?"

"I can't explain it, quite. I mean I can feel them, how strong they are, where they are. And there's something else. I can feel it pulling at me. It's not bad or anything, just this feeling that Hogwarts wants me to go somewhere." She shook her head. "I'm going to need some books on protective enchantments to understand what I'm feeling."

She sighed. "And in the meantime, I've got to pretend none of this happened." She looked at them. "And you do too. We can't let anyone know that I've gained control over the school, or that I have any Lordships."

"But what about Headmaster Dumbledore? Won't he know?"

"No," said Harri, answering Hermione's questions. "I snuck across the enchantments almost half-an-hour before I met you at the gates. He won't think I had anything to do with the enchantments reacting strangely. He'll know something changed, just not what or who was involved."

Then she said, "It turns out that I am literally in control of the school. The Board of Directors are just advisors because I have two of the four Lordships." They rocked back at that. "So, I was thinking, wouldn't it be good to have a class for Muggle-borns that taught them all the traditions and customs of the wizarding world instead of tossing them into it and then getting mad when they do something wrong?"

Their discussion lasted until dinner time.

That night Harri discovered, to her intense dismay, that, indeed, her very first period had started.


	23. Purr-fect Catastrophe

_Note: 7/1/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**23\. Purr-fect Cat-astrophe**

Harriet stared at her best friend standing in the toilet stall.

Ron and Harri had just returned from scouting out the Slytherin Common Room. They had hoped to trick Draco Malfoy into admitting he was the Heir of Slytherin — and that he was the one going around petrifying students. Unfortunately, they didn't and he wasn't.

The two had barely made it out of the Common Room before their Polyjuice Potion had worn off. _Thank god_, Harri thought, as they ran through the corridors heading back to Myrtle's toilets, _that it was still Christmas Break and the corridors were deserted_. Otherwise they would have been caught red-handed changing back from Goyle and Pansy into Ron and Harri.

Hermione had planned to go with them as Millicent Bulstrode but at the last minute had begged off saying they should go without her.

Harri had expected that by the time the two had returned that Hermione's portion of the potion would have expired, just as theirs had. It hadn't. Only after much persuasion had she slowly opened the door to the stall she had used for the transformation. Myrtle's joyful laughter at the other girl's misfortune had not helped.

Harri didn't know what to think. As a Christmas surprise this certainly qualified. She had rather mixed feeling about the matter. One the one hand she was horrified that her best friend had accidentally ingested Polyjuice using a cat's hair, on the other hand Hermone was decidedly quite cute as a cat — whiskers and all.

Myrtle was thoroughly enjoying that someone besides her was the root of a deliciously embarrassing prank, inadvertent though it might have been. Harri could see the humour as well, but Hermione was in no condition to laugh at her misfortune. Instead, tears were dripping from her whiskers like rain from tree branches.

"You'll be teased something dreadful," said Myrtle happily as they were leaving the toilets. She added "Wait till everyone finds out you've got a tail!"

Harri stopped and went back inside. "Myrtle," she said sternly, "Don't you dare tell anyone what happened to Minie! I've been nice to you and you've helped us out, if you want us to stay friends you won't tell anyone what happened to Minie."

Myrtle looked startled. "Friends?"

"Well, of course, friends," said Harri somewhat scornfully. "we've been coming in here every day since November. You've told us practically everything about you, just as we've told you about us. I mean who else have you told how you died? Who else has even asked? If you didn't want to be our friend why didn't you just leave when we came in? And if we didn't want to be your friend, we would simply have ignored you!" That wasn't quite true, they didn't want her to tattle on them, so of course they were nice to her. Obviously, Myrtle being a self-centered fourteen-year-old girl made it rather easy to manipulate her — and being ignored for 50 years would tend to make oneself _very_ self-centered. As long as they didn't say anything that she might consider critical, she would blather on for hours about herself.

And she had been a third-year student when she died, so she actually knew more about their magic classes than they did! Many times she had told them stories about her different classes — even demonstrating spells that she could no longer do because she was a ghost — usually ending in a student teasing her about something, naturally.

Amazingly, Ron had even asked her questions about homework when Hermione was being difficult and refusing to let him see her notes — usually after one of their frequent disagreements. And Myrtle had given him the correct explanations and answers.

"Friends," Myrtle said speculatively. After a moment drifting, she said, "Okay." Then she zipped back to her favorite toilet, the one she had died in, and disappeared into the U-bend.

"There now, that's sorted," Harri said as she came back out. Hermione was sniffling, but the tears had mostly stopped. The trip to the Hospital Wing was silent, their footsteps echoing hollowly.

Madam Pomfrey was not amused when they arrived. Harri wasn't sure she believed their excuse for the accident, but she didn't actually say anything except to chase them out when visiting hours were over.

Harri waited for an hour past curfew before sneaking out with her invisibility cloak. Minie had stayed with her when she was in the Hospital Wing, it was only right for her to do the same. That it gave her a legitimate excuse to share her bed was mere happenstance!

She easily made the trip and was about to open the doors when she thought, _What if Madam Pomfrey notices?_ She carefully hid herself with her house-elf _I'm not here_ spell, then very quietly POPed to the other side of the door. She waited a moment to see if there was any reaction. She could hear her friend breathing lightly, but it wasn't the sound of someone deep asleep. It sounded more like that of someone laying awake in bed, hoping to fall asleep before sunrise.

She quickly approached the Minie's bed, her footsteps silenced. Not wanting to scare the girl half-to-death by suddenly appearing out of nowhere, she unsilenced her shoes when she was only a few steps away and deliberately scuffed her feet on the floor to make a small noise. Just as softly, she said, "Minie?"

The girl on the bed turned her head, "Harri?" she whispered back.

"Yes." Harri carefully removed her cloak and slid it underneath the pillow before lifting the sheet and climbing in beside her best friend. "Did you think I'd not return the favor of keeping you company in the Hospital Wing?"

Hermione sighed and hugged her. It was so different with Minie than others in the past. She knew Minie wanted nothing more to be held, and that's all they did. Although Harri could not stop herself from stroking the girl's furry cheeks.

The rest of the hols passed quickly and Harri spent most of it in bed with Minie — goodness that sounded wicked but really wasn't. She and Ron spent the days trying to discover a charm to help disguise the other girl so she wouldn't miss classes or be laughed at by others. It had been the Twins who had tweaked to the right question that led them to the solution. When the charm didn't last long enough, they resorted to using a bit of blood to strengthen it — not that they told anyone that.

Minie spent the daytime working on her paper about what had happened. Harri had been more than willing to help her conduct tests on the "extra" parts and take a few pictures. She had even managed to talk the girl into letting her take some nudes, after promising she would give the pictures and negatives to Minie. She justified it by telling the cat-girl that that was the only way for her to see how she really appeared to others. Harri didn't tell her she was keeping copies of those nudes for herself.

Minie's extra "chest accessories" had been an interesting problem for the girl. While the four new ones felt the same to her, she couldn't tell how much of that feeling was from the breasts and how much from her hands. She said, "It's kinda like trying to tickle myself, sorting out the sensations is a problem."

Harri offered to help, "I'll only do what you tell me to do while you record what you feel."

Harri had lots of experience in making women feel good, and brought that skill to bear on her friend. The results of that first night's experiments were not a surprise to Harri, although Minie was _very_ surprised.

Harri was positive that it was the first time Minie ever had a climax with the aid of a second person — and the first one was just from manipulating her breasts! Of course, there being six of them made it a bit of a challenge for Harri to make sure none of them were neglected. And that was _before_ she tried oral stimulation. To say it was an enjoyable experiment was quite the understatement.

And the base of Minie's tail seemed just as sensitive. From her years of experience in the hotel Harri could tell just from the sounds the girl made just how sensitive _that_ area was! Thank god for silencing charms. Harri might have been able to go a bit farther but she didn't want to scare the other girl. They were only experimenting with the _new_ accessories.

And unlike the hotel, hearing how much her best friend appreciated her efforts made Harri feel good, too. Harri could hardly wait until they managed to try a few experiments in the Clubroom. She knew the girl was too embarrassed to allow the boys to be anywhere nearby, and that would put a crimp in her efforts, but still . . . . She couldn't help but wonder if Minie might be willing to see if there were changes that were not obvious.

Harri made sure they repeated the "experiments" several times over the next few days. After all, experimental results must be reproducible for the results to be considered valid.

The only fly in the ointment, as far as she was concerned, was finding a get-well card under Minie's pillow from Professor Lockhart. She couldn't explain why, but it made her stomach ache knowing that Minie treasured the card.

(|) (|)

The first night the other students returned was the real test, and they passed with flying colors! Nobody noticed a single thing different about Minie, although Harri realized that _she_ was attracting a bit of attention with how close she stayed to Minie. She couldn't help it though, Minie's fur was just _so_ soft.

To Harri's delight, Minie didn't object when Harri climbed into her bed in the dorm that first night. The black-haired girl did make sure to do that only after the others had fallen asleep. She also vacated Minie's bed the early the next morning after restoring Minie's glamour, well before the rest awoke.

Harri had discovered she really liked sleeping with her cat-girl friend. She decided to keep doing that until Minie told her to stop. With luck, she wouldn't.

The weeks flew by rapidly as they got back into the swing of classes. Gradually, the tension around the Castle relaxed as no more petrified victims were discovered.

Harri was disappointed as most of Hermione's cat-like features faded during the month. First went the whiskers, then the fur. Her "extra" breasts slowly shrunk until they disappeared, as did her tail. Her ears were the last to disappear.

Still, some traces of her experience remained. If you looked closely, her ears still appeared a bit pointier than they used to be. If Harri scratched in just the right spot on the back of Minie's head between her ears, her eyes closed and a faint purr would start. Scratching lightly or rubbing at the base of her spine got another reaction — she was still somewhat sensitive there Harri discovered to her delight and Minie's embarrassment. And repeated experimentation revealed that her breasts were neither more sensitive nor less after the ancillary ones disappeared. Other, less tangible, things remained as well. Her hearing was much more acute, as were her taste buds and her sense of smell. Her diet changed as a result, shifting from the middle range to things that were either sweeter or bitterer than before. Already a fan of "hot" foods, she now preferred them.

One evening the last week of January the four were headed back to the dorm from the kitchens after a late snack, when they heard Mr. Filch's complaining voice coming from down the hall of the first floor. Investigating, they found the floor outside Myrtle's lavatory flooded.

Sighing, Harri, followed by the others, walked inside. "Myrtle, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"

"Why would I throw something at you?"

"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me . . . ."

"But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you," said Harri, reasonably. "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?"

Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I don't think!"

Hermione stepped back, winching in pain. Her ears were quite sensitive to loud noises, now.

"Easy there, Myrtle,_ I _didn't throw it! Did you see who did?"

"I don't know . . . I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle, glaring at them. "It's over there, it got washed out . . . ."

They looked to where Myrtle was pointing. Under the sink with the snake on the tap was a small, thin book with a shabby black cover. It was as wet as everything else in the bathroom.

Harri went to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flung out an arm to stop her.

"What?" said Harri.

"It could be dangerous," Ron said worriedly.

"Dangerous?" said Harri, laughing. "Come off it, how could it be dangerous?"

Hermione looked astounded at the thought a book could be _dangerous_.

"You'd be surprised," said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book. "Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated — Dad's told me — there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read _Sonnets of a Sorcerer_ spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And —"

"All right, I get it," said Harri. All four regarded the book suspiciously.

The little book lay on the floor, nondescript and soggy.

"Well, we won't find out unless we look at it," she said. She ducked around Ron and picked it up off the floor as Hermione gave a small surprised squeak.

The girl saw at once that it was a diary, and the faded year on the cover told her it was fifty years old. Eagerly she opened it and looked at the first page. You could just make out the name "T. M. Riddle" in smudged ink.

"Hang on," said Ron, who was now looking over Harri's shoulder. "I know that name . . . T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago."

"How on earth d'you know that?" said Hermione.

"Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in detention," said Ron resentfully. "That was the one I burped slugs all over. If you'd wiped slime off a name for an hour, you'd remember it, too."

Harri peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank. There wasn't the faintest trace of writing on any of them.

"He never wrote in it," said Harri, disappointed.

"I wonder why someone wanted to flush it away?" said Ron curiously. "Especially if it has nothing written in it."

Harry turned to the back cover of the book.

"Look," said Hermione, pointing at the printed name of a store on Vauxhall Road, London. "He must've been Muggle-born," she said, "to have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road."

"Well, it's not much use to us," said Ron. He dropped his voice. "Fifty points if you can get it through Myrtle's nose."

Harri, however, pocketed it. That it was in this room, where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets lay, might be a coincidence. That it dated back to the last time the entrance was open was another coincidence. That it appeared this year when everything was happening? Too many coincidences — there had to be a reason the book was discarded here, today. What could the diary tell her, if only she could think of the right questions?

(|) (|)

They tried looking for everything they could think of: invisible ink, magically hidden letters, heat sensitive ink, cold sensitive ink, nothing seemed to work. The book remained stubbornly blank. They had to fight the desire to start writing in the journal themselves so as not to cover up any invisible writing already in it.

Careful perusal of _Hogwarts, A History_ didn't help either. It had no more information about the mysterious T.M. Riddle than the plaque in the Trophy Room. Which seemed odd, in retrospect. Not even the Come-and-Go Room could provide them with details. It was as if someone had worked very hard to hide all mention of whatever it was that T.M. Riddle did fifty years ago that earned him his award. Just like all mention of the Chamber of Secrets being opened fifty years ago was hidden.

And then it was Valentine's day. A Sunday that would live in infamy.

She received four valentines, one each from Ron, Nev, Fred, and George. Fred and George took the ridiculous route, kneeling beside her seat in the Great Hall and proclaiming their undying love to her as they gave her their cards, and then promptly running over the Kate Bell and Alicia Spinnet and doing the same thing, only giving the girls chocolates in addition.

Ron and Nev had given her and Hermione friendship Valentine cards.

Never having had a reason to want to celebrate Valentines Day, Harri had been somewhat at a loss as to what to do until she remembered her Traditions training. The night before she had put together cards for her friends, saying,

.

"There is nothing on this earth more prized than true friendship.

– Thomas Aquinas."

"And you are a true friend."

.

And the odd thing was, she truly meant it. Those five people had stayed by her side throughout all her trials this year. She didn't know how she would have coped if they hadn't been with her.

Even knowing that Hermione had been one of the forty-six people to send that fraud of a Professor, Lockhart, a Valentine didn't detract from her happiness. She was disappointed that Hermione didn't give her a card.

No, what ruined her day, and rest of the term she was sure, was the arrival of the parliament of owls. All but two were family or school owls with harmless deliveries of cards and packages celebrating the holiday.

However, the two that were not stood out. If not for the Gringotts' emblems on their breasts one might have mistaken them for war-birds dispatched to attack the enemy. These two birds were completely unlike the owls normally used in Gringotts' correspondence. These two proclaimed by their very presence that the messages they brought were of the highest importance.

They were large and wore a harness with the Gringotts bank emblem on it, as well as being festooned with spikes. Their talons had clearly been sharpened and the spurs had a longer, curved steel blade attached. No one would dare bother these messengers!

One headed straight for Harri while the other glided over to the Slytherin table. The other owls at both tables scattered out of the way, knocking over juices in their frantic efforts to avoid the new arrivals.

The owl landed gracefully directly in front of Harri, somehow managing to avoid stepping in any of the plates covering the table. It thrust its breast forward. A strap just below the Gringotts' emblem held a scroll. After staring at it in surprise, Harri leaned forward and quickly relieved the bird of its shrunken burden. Neville, sitting beside her, grabbed a whole platter of bangers and thrust it up towards the bird. Acting as if this was an expected courtesy, the bird began downing the bangers one after another as Harri unrolled the expanded scroll and began reading.

.

_Lord Harry Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Gaunt-Slytherin,_

.

Harri grimaced at that.

.

_While investigating the accounts you acquired By Right of Conquest it has come to our attention that there is an outstanding Marriage Contract involving the House Slytherin. Even though this contract is centuries old, its conditions for enforcement are only now realized._

_House Slytherin made a contract with House Parkinson in 1347 A.D. such that should _either_ House be reduced to a sole survivor of appropriate age, that the other House would provide a suitable spouse to prevent that House from going extinct. This contract was enacted to ensure the continuance of both Houses, where the female is obliged to supply male heirs for both lines should that be necessary._

_The entire direct Slytherin line died out in battle in 1629 A.D., without issue, leaving the House Slytherin inheritance in Minor House Gaunt. House Gaunt remained a robust lineage until 1947 A.D. when T.M. Riddle became sole Heir to both Houses._

_House Parkinson remained a robust lineage, but in 1947 A.D. consisted only of male issue, thus the Slytherin-Parkinson Houses Marriage Contract was in abeyance until such a time as female issue was made in either House._

_On December 13__th__, 1979 House Parkinson delivered a female Heir. When this female child experiences menses she would have been available as a viable spouse to the terms of the Slytherin-Parkinson Houses Marriage Contract to T. M. Riddle-Gaunt-Slytherin._

_On October 31__st__, 1981 Lord Riddle-Gaunt-Slytherin was vanquished by you, Heir Harry Potter, and the Slytherin-Parkinson Houses Marriage Contract was placed in abeyance. You were emancipated on August 7__th__, 1991 when you assumed the Lordship of House Potter. On January 2__nd__, 1993, By Right of Conquest on October 31st, 1981, you, as Lord Potter, accepted the Lordships of House Gaunt and House Slytherin, and the Slytherin-Parkinson Houses Marriage Contract was activated._

_After due review by Gringotts Magic Legal Teams, the Slytherin-Parkinson Houses Marriage Contract is transferred to you, Lord Harry Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Gaunt-Slytherin, and deemed valid for the stated purpose of ensuring the continuance of Houses Slytherin and Parkinson._

_As you are emancipated, for the purposes of the Slytherin-Parkinson Houses Marriage Contract you are considered of legal age for the Contract to be enforced as soon as the female Heir Pansy Parkinson of House Parkinson reaches menses or her seventeenth birthday, whichever occurs first. You will receive owl notification from Gringotts when the Contract magic confirms that first menses has taken place, or she celebrates her seventeenth birthday._

_The Marriage is expected to take place within six (6) months of that date. Because Miss Parkinson is an only child the marriage must provide at least two valid Heirs, one for each House, within five (5) years or severe penalties will be enacted against both parties. Medical exceptions are allowed._

_The Slytherin-Parkinson Houses Marriage Contract supersedes any Marriage Contract issued in or to either House Parkinson or House Slytherin, unless such Contracts were issued prior to 1547A.D. Any exclusivity Contracts issued by any other Houses are declared null and void, unless such Contracts were issued prior to 1547A.D._

_Attached is a copy of the original Slytherin-Parkinson Houses Marriage Contract for your records._

_._

Attached to the bottom of the scroll was a small note.

.

_Lord Harry Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Gaunt-Slytherin: Unfortunately, by both Ministry Law and Gringotts Treaty this Marriage Contract could not be withheld or delayed. As a courtesy to you, the Letters sent to House Parkinson (to Lord Parkinson and his daughter Heir Pansy Parkinson) do not mention Houses Peverell and Gryffindor._

_._

Neatly signed beneath that was "_Ragnark, Director, Gringotts._"

By then Harri was hyperventilating, making odd little squeaking noises, and she was as pale as Moaning Myrtle. Hermione was leaning against her on one side reading over her shoulder, uttering her own gasps and "oh my gods," as she, too, read the missive.

Neville, worried at the expressions and sounds his friends were making, reached for the scroll, asking, "May I?" At her complete lack of response, he pulled the scroll from Harri's nerveless fingers and started reading it as Hermione yanked the other scroll from underneath it. Both began frantically reading while Harri stared over the table at the Slytherins.

Pansy wasn't taking the news any better that Harri. She could see the other girl saying, "No, no," over and over again, her face as pale as Harri knew hers must be.

Seeing the girl's initial reaction had Professor Snape striding rapidly to his snake, arriving at her side as she slammed the scroll down. She stood and stared over the Gryffindor table, searching the place the other Gringotts owl had landed, searching for her future husband — so she could kill him for this public embarrassment. Fortunately, the Gringott's owl had already left, so she was left with only a vague idea of where it had landed.

Harri started to slump down in her seat, hoping to hide for just a few more minutes behind Ron, who was sitting opposite her this meal. Professor McGonagall was headed over to them, following Snape's lead, in finding out why Gringotts had sent such officious owls.

Hermione, ever the fast reader, set down the Marriage Contract and just stared at Harri. She looked over at the Slytherin table, where Pansy's letter was now being read by Professor Snape. Daphne and Millicent, sitting on either side of Pansy this morning, had apparently managed to get a bit of explanation from whatever Pansy was saying and were now also scanning the Gryffindor table. They had seen vaguely where the Gringotts' owl had landed, so they knew Lord Potter-Gaunt-Slytherin had to be close to there. But all they could see were Longbottom, Weasley, Finnegan, and Thomas.

Harri could see the moment it occurred to them that either Finnegan or Thomas, as the only _known_ male non-Pure-bloods in the grouping, had to be the elusive Potter-Gaunt-Slytherin. Pansy started climbing on the table, the hell with going around. That was when Hermione took control. "Fred, George," she yelled over the commotion slowly going in the Great Hall as the students realized something major had happened. "Here. NOW!"

While pranksters, the twins knew when not to clown around. Gringotts never sent trivial Owl messages. Seconds later they were at her side.

"Get Harri to the clubroom as fast as you can." She shoved the marriage contract into her pocket.

The two Fourth-year students grabbed Harri under her arms and lifted her over the bench and headed for the doors without putting her back down. Hermione grabbed Neville's arm and started dragging him towards the door. Looking around bewilderedly, Ron was over his bench and headed for the doors as well. Seeing Hermione with her wand in hand he popped his out as well and began scanning for danger. Seeing Pansy leaping from the Hufflepuff table to the Ravenclaw quickly focused his attention on her, especially when he saw both Millicent and Daphne leaping off the table behind her, with Tracey just leaving the Slytherin table. The girls were concentrating on Finnegan and Thomas and probably figured the Weasleys and friends were merely clearing out of the way to avoid collateral damage in whatever was about to happen. They didn't stop to wonder why the six were, in a very un-Gryffindor like manner, abandoning their friends. The rest of the Gryffindor Second Years were staring at the retreating group in astonished puzzlement. Most had not yet noticed Pansy jumping to the floor beside their table with the other Slytherin girls not far behind.

The last thing Harri saw as the Weasley Twins carried her out of the Great Hall was Pansy pointing her wand at Dean and yelling, "Harry Potter, you son-of-a . . . ." Professor McGonagall also had her wand out, the tip glowing in the beginnings of a spell — probably a _protego_ or stunner of some kind. The doors slamming behind Ron as he barely made it through cut off the rest.

(|) (|)

"Japan," said Harri firmly. "I'm _moving_ to _Japan_."

The other five stared at her. "You can't," Hermione said. "This Marriage Contract," she pointed at the scroll on the table, "is pretty explicit on what happens if you refuse to marry Pansy." She stared at Harri who was pointedly looking in another direction, arms crossed. "If I understand it right, it will force you to go to her. And it will force her to go to you."

She sighed. "The way it reads, if you went to Japan and didn't marry her, at the end of the six months you'd head back without even knowing what you were doing. You'd wake in England in bed with her and not remember how you even got to England, much less found her. And you'd wouldn't be able to leave her side until she had the first baby." She stared coldly at the black-haired girl, "And in your current condition I doubt there'd ever _be_ a baby."

Harri shuddered at the thought

"Look, we need to get a real lawyer to go over this contract, and we need Lord Black to take a look at it and tell us what he thinks. Madam Longbottom's opinion wouldn't hurt, either," Hermione said with a sidelong glance at Neville.

"Worst case scenario is that you have to marry her. That gives us five years to figure a way around the contract's requirement for heirs." She grimaced. "Scientists have successfully cloned sheep, surely using magic we can do the same for you."

"Cloned?" asked Fred

"What's that?" said George.

Distracted from her tirade, Hermione started explaining. "Muggle scientists successfully took a skin cell from a sheep and used it as an egg to grow a new sheep that was identical in every way to the sheep the cell came from. If they can do that, then we should be able to take a cell from Harri, put it in Pansy and have her give birth to the baby, satisfying the terms of the Marriage Contract."

"Really?" That was in stereo from the twins.

"Really."

Harri nodded her agreement. She remembered hearing the news reports over the telly.

Ron and Neville just stood there, mouths hanging open in astonishment.

But that wasn't what bothered Harri at the moment — yes, getting married was a problem, but not _the_ problem as far as she was concerned. The _problem_ was — or was it were? — the Slytherins and the rest of the school.

She had been well and truly outed as the Heir of Slytherin, by an authority no less than Gringotts. With regards to inheritance and contracts, nobody could beat the Goblins. Wizards knew that if the Goblins said Harri was Lord Slytherin, then she was.

And emancipated. And Lord Potter.

She couldn't even imagine what the Headmaster was going to say.

They argued for hours before they came to a conclusion. Harri was going to have to just suck it up and tell the school the truth. Tomorrow. At Breakfast.

If she didn't have a nervous breakdown first.

A message was on her pillow when she and Hermione returned to the dorm after curfew. The Headmaster wanted to see her at seven the next morning.

She wondered, was it too late to run away from home? She sighed as Hermione left to tell the others of the early start to tomorrow.

(|) (|)

She gave up at three A.M. and got up. A long hot shower — gotta love magic, hot water never runs out — helped calm her down. That was where Hermione found her at six.

"Harri?"

The girl stirred, she'd fallen asleep in the corner with the warm water drenching her. She had discovered that that could be quite relaxing after her Uncle's clients left at night. And it hid her tears just as well. "Hmm?"

"You need to get ready."

She let Minie pull her to her feet and guide her back to their dorm room. She stared at the crests on the right-side breast of her Acromantula silk Dress Robes: Potter, Slytherin, Gaunt in gold outline, with much smaller crests for Longbottom and Weasley in silver outline arrayed under them. Faintly she could see the crests for Gryffindor and Peverell as well. She pointed to them and asked Hermione, "Can you see these two, Gryffindor and Peverell?"

The girl looked closely. "No. I guess they can't be seen by anyone you don't want to see them."

"Good!"

They inspected the crests on Hermione's robes. Hermione, while not having a House Crest, did have a small silver-outlined version of the Potter crest on her breast to indicate she was under Potter House protection. One of the little things that had occurred when she swore to support Harri early last year Harri had discovered during her Wizarding Traditions tutoring. By mutually swearing to support each other, Harri had accidentally extended her House's protection to the other Witch. The same was true for Ron and Neville.

They met with Ron, Neville, and the twins in the common room. They intended to have a show of strength. While both Ron and Neville had proper robes with their crests on the breasts and a smaller Potter Crest underneath to represent their sworn alliance, the twins merely wore their best robes.

Harri looked at them a moment, "Pipsy!"

"POP! Master Harry called Pipsy. Pipsy is here," said the little house-elf.

"Pipsy, please provide these two fine Wizards with proper Dress robes from the stock at Potter House, immediately."

"Pipsy will do." She turned and studied the two Wizards a moment, then POPed away. She returned mere moments later with an armload of clothing. She studied the two again, who were only now protesting, "Harri, you needn't do that . . . ,"

"We're fine as we are."

Pipsy ignored them and snapped her fingers. Instantly the two Wizards were dressed in fine Acromantula silk robes, their Weasley crests proudly displayed.

"Nonsense," Harri said. "Today's announcement is going to rock the Wizarding World and I wouldn't be surprised if reporters weren't also in appearance here. We can't have you appearing in anything that might seem shabby in comparison with the rest of us. While you haven't sworn an alliance with me, your brother did and for _his_ sake you must appear every bit as distinguished as he does."

"Alliance?" chorused the twins, exchanging mystified looks.

Harri smiled, "Yes, last year, when we were trying to protect the Philosopher's Stone, we swore to help and support each other. That was when I told them about my being Harry Potter."

The twins stared at each other a moment, silently communicating with wordless expressions and slight gestures. After a moment, they turned and said, "I offer to personally ally myself with the House Potter and that I will support House Potter to the best of my ability. Should you need anything I can supply, just ask. What say you?" They held out their wands.

Stunned at their actions, she just stared until Neville nudged her, "Well, are you going to accept?"

Jolted, she said, "The Lord of House Potter accepts the personal pledge of alliance of Fred Weasley and George Weasley, of House Weasley, and reciprocates in all particulars." She touched their wands with hers and a glow extended from her ring and to their heart. She looked at them and saw that below their Weasley Crest was now a small House Potter alliance crest.

She cleared her throat, it was suddenly difficult to talk. Why would they want to help her, a hopeless amoral slag? And the Lord Slytherin, enemy of all Gryffindors. And yet, they had just sworn to do so for no reason she could discern. "I promise to never take advantage of your pledges," she swept her glance across all of them. "If I ever ask you to do something that makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to do it. Not doing it will not affect our alliance."

"Harri," said Fred.

"You've already helped us immeasurably . . . ,"

"by getting Professor Snape . . . ,"

"to help us with our potions."

"We've learned . . . ,"

"more about potions . . . ,"

"since you convinced him . . . ,"

"to help us than we did in . . . ,"

"the previous three years!"

"I think, though . . . ,"

"That we'd better hurry . . . ,"

"or we'll be late!"

They both bowed and waved their arms towards the Common Room door.

At that moment, the door opened and Professor McGonagall walked through.

"Ah, good, you're ready. I was worried I might have to get you up Miss Potter." She looked at the group and couldn't help but notice that the others were in their Dress Robes. Neither did it escape her notice that each of the others sported a Potter House alliance crest.

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall," they chorused.

"The Headmaster requested only Miss Potter's presence, you can meet with her in the Great Hall," the Professor said, speaking to the others while sweeping them with a glance.

"Thank you," said Harri. "But I would like them present to give me advice. I am not nearly as well versed in Wizard Traditions as the Weasleys or Neville. And Hermione is the smartest Witch I know and I want her advice as well. They will be accompanying me."

"Miss Potter, the Headmaster wishes to speak with you, only."

Hermione spoke up, "Professor, is this about something Miss Potter did in school, or is it in regards to yesterday's Gringotts' Owls?"

The elder Witch looked at her disapprovingly, "As the Owls from Gringotts initiated a brawl in the Great Hall, I believe it is both."

The little Witch took a breath. "As Miss Potter did nothing except receive an owl and leave the Great Hall, she has nothing to do with the . . . brawl. If the Headmaster wishes to speak with her about the _private_ Owl she received from Gringotts about _private_ House affairs, it is none of his business. If he insists, then it is appropriate for Miss Potter to bring along her alliance for consultation and advice. Additionally, Miss Potter formally requests that you attend this meeting as her Head of House." They had discussed that the Headmaster might try to see her alone. Given the impact all this would have on the school, she needed all the support she could behind her.

The professor, taken back by the direct confrontational aspect of Hermione's speech, she could only reiterate, "The Headmaster only needs to see Miss Potter."

Harri said, "He shall see me, with my friends, or not at all."

McGonagall frowned sternly at them and then sighed. Rather than fight this here, she would let the Headmaster deal with them. "Very well. Come with me." She turned and led the way out the door. A few minutes later they were standing in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Professor McGonagall gave them a stern look and turned back to the gargoyle. Before the Professor could say anything, though, the gargoyle looked at Harri, bowed slightly, and moved aside — the castle knew she out-ranked the Headmaster. McGonagall stared at the stone creature, perplexed, then shrugged and stood aside as the students walked in ahead of her. The twins gave her cheeky grins.

They filed into the large room to see that Professor Snape and Miss Parkinson were already seated. There was only one other chair. The walls were filled with bookshelves. And above them were numerous paintings of previous Headmasters, all of whom were awake and watching interestedly.

Knickknacks of all sorts were scattered around the room, spinning, puffing, and glowing. Occasionally one or another would make a sound — a click, a whistle, a whirr.

"Good morning, Headmaster," Harri said, hearing the others echo it behind her. She turned to the other two, "Good morning Professor Snape, Miss Parkinson." Again the others echoed her. Pansy stared at the girl in shock. She had never imagined for a second that Harriet Potter was actually Harry James Potter. She clearly couldn't believe that the boy Harry Potter was really a girl. And how could she marry a girl? She noticed their Dress robes and the insignia on them, but dismissed them as other things had her attention.

Good morning, Harri," the Headmaster said with a twinkle in his eyes, ignoring the rest. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall, you may go," the Headmaster concluded.

Before the professor could react, Hermione said, "Excuse me, Headmaster, but Lord Potter specifically requested that Professor McGonagall attend this meeting."

"That's alright," said the Headmaster, addressing Professor McGonagall, "I'm sure you have other duties that require your attention."

Harri spoke up, "Then I'm sure that Professor Snape likewise has other duties that require his attention."

The Headmaster stared at Harri a moment, his lips quirking slightly. "Professor Snape is here to assist Miss Parkinson."

"And Professor McGonagall is here to assist me," Harri shot back. "If I have no need of her advice, then Miss Parkinson has no need of Professor Snape's advice."

Harri could see Professor Snape's eyes reflect a bit of amusement at seeing the Headmaster stymied. She winked at him. His expression blanked out.

"Very well," Dumbledore capitulated. He turned his attention to the other students. It did not escape his notice, Harri could tell, that the Potter House alliance crest was on all their robes. The twinkle in his eyes had diminished. "Thank you for escorting your fellow Gryffindor, you may wait for her outside."

Harri cleared her throat. "I'm sorry Headmaster, but I asked them to stay with me. I know very little of Wizarding traditions, seeing as how I was raised by Muggles and they knew nothing of those. Mr. Longbottom and the Weasleys know and understand those traditions on a level it will take me years to reach. And I asked Miss Granger because she is a Muggle-born and is much smarter than I. She will . . . see things I might miss." Hermione blushed slightly at the praise.

"Surely Professor McGonagall can provide any advice you might need, Harri. You needn't trouble your friends."

"If this were a school related matter, then that might be true. But this concerns a matter between House Potter and House Parkinson, a matter in which you and the school have no standing.

"It is entirely appropriate for me to request the advice of members of the Potter House Alliance, especially as it seems my magical guardian was _negligent_ and _failed_ to inform me of the responsibilities, obligations, and rights as the Heir to House Potter before I started attending Hogwarts. And then _farther failed_ in their duty by not informing and arranging tutoring for me once I did arrive."

Harri turned slightly towards Pansy and briefly bowed her head. "Miss Parkinson, I'm sure, was well tutored by her family on their expectations of her and her position in Wizarding society, and what she could look forward to in turn."

She turned back to the Headmaster. "I, however, have had no such training and am more likely to insult someone in ignorance when I intend a compliment. I have no idea what is expected in a Wizarding marriage than the obvious of rearing children." She paused. "The Marriage Contract I read last night was quite shocking, the Muggles abandoned such things several hundred years ago."

Harri carefully stared at the Headmaster's nose. She didn't give him time to interrupt.

"I do thank you, though, for this opportunity to explain to Miss Parkinson some important details before I speak to the school at breakfast." Harri turned fully to face Pansy.

"Miss Parkinson, this came to me as a complete surprise, as has almost _everything_ that has happened to me since I arrived at Hogwarts last year.

"First, I was born Harry James Potter on July 31st, 1980 in Godric's Hollow, the son of James and Lily Potter nee Evans. On October 31st, 1981, the Wizard known as Lord Voldemort," everyone except the Headmaster winced at the name, "with the aid of Peter Pettigrew, a close friend of the Potters, attacked and _killed_ my parents. He next attempted to kill me, but _something_ went wrong and he was destroyed, instead."

She cleared her throat. "When I was left with my relatives, a Muggle couple with a son, I was a girl in all particulars. One might _assume_ this was a consequence of the attack on my family. It _cannot_, I have been told, be reversed." Let them think her transformation was a result of the attack and not a meddling old fool.

"So, the long and short of it is that I have the magical core of a boy and the physical body of a girl. That means that magic recognizes me as a _boy_.

"I visited Gringotts last year to set up a business and they informed me that I was Heir Potter." She held out her hand to the girl and professor, flashing the ring into view. They both took a long look. With the ring on her finger, there could be no doubt that what she had told them was true. "By taking the ring I was emancipated and made an adult in the eyes of magic and Wizarding Law. I _am_ Lord Potter." She swung her hand to her other side to allow Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster view the ring.

"Harri, why didn't you tell me this?" interrupted the Headmaster, projecting an air of wounded innocence.

She stared at him, or actually, his nose. "You did not think it _important_ to tell me that I was the _Heir_ of House Potter. Because you thought _that_ was a _trivial_ matter, I figured you didn't care that I was now _Lord_ Potter." She shrugged. "So I said nothing to you."

Both Snape and Dumbledore had carefully bland expressions. She knew that she had significantly changed the playing field for whatever it was the two were involved in.

Pansy was still in a state of shock. The Boy-Who-Lived had become the Girl-Who-Lived. And if magic recognized her as a boy, then the Marriage Contract was valid. She had to marry a _girl_!

"At the end of Christmas hols," Harri continued, "I went to Gringotts because I was hearing rumours that I might be the Heir of Slytherin, By Right of Conquest. I wanted to be able to categorically deny that." She sighed. "To make a long story short, I am now Lord Slytherin, By Right of Conquest." She held her hand out again, and allowed the Slytherin Ring to appear. "I am also Lord Gaunt, but that ring was wrapped in the most vile Dark Soul Magic you can imagine and the Goblins had to destroy it. We are debating whether to dissolve House Gaunt or not. Because it has a seat on the Wizengamot and would lose that, we probably won't."

The Headmaster sat up at hearing about the Gaunt ring and the magic on it. "Excuse me, Harri, but did the Goblins say what the magic was?"

"Yes, sir, they called it a Soul Anchor."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair heavily, sighing.

Harri turned her attention back to Pansy. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely, "I knew _nothing_ about this until yesterday. I didn't even know there _were_ such things as marriage contracts until my godfather mentioned I could upset the Noble and Ancient Houses by offering a Muggle-born such a contract to transfer Slytherin House to her children when he discovered my true identity."

She noticed that the Weasleys and Neville looked amused while Pansy and McGonagall looked shocked. Snape, of course, gave nothing away with his expression. The Headmaster merely had twinkles in his eyes and the touch of a smile.

She sighed. "Anyway, that brings us up to today. At breakfast I intend to tell everyone what I just told you. Unfortunately, according to the Goblins, there is nothing that can be done about the contract." She turned back to the Headmaster. "Any other details in the contract are between myself and House Parkinson, as is the execution of the contract. I will not answer any questions on the subject."

She looked at Snape. "Professor, you are the expert. Is there _anything_ we can do to delay the onset of the conditions set by the contract — you did read it, correct?" If they could delay the onset of Pansy's menses it would give them that much more time to figure out what they needed to do. That the Goblins hadn't stated her menses had started, it was safe to assume it hadn't, yet.

The professor nodded his acknowledgement of reading the contract. "There might be a potion or two that would . . . delay the marriage for a while. I would have to see what the side-effects are to see if they are a viable option."

Harri nodded. "Thank you, Professor Snape. Please hurry, if you can, it would be . . . lamentable to discover a perfect delaying tactic too late to be of use. House Potter will cover your time and any expenses you may encounter. Tender the bill directly to the Potter House account manager at Gringotts."

The professor nodded agreement.

"If you deem it necessary, we could get a temporary substitute for your classes — do you know of any Potion Masters you could call in for that?"

"I will let you know by this evening," the professor said.

"Thank you, sir."

Harri faced Pansy. "Miss Parkinson, I know that neither of us are pleased with this arrangement . . . ."

Pansy snorted in disgust.

"But for the short term we need to present a united front to the school to protect _both_ our Families' interests. I have been told that as of the arrival of that contract to our hands yesterday, that you are considered a member of House Slytherin. Because Slytherin is subordinate to House Potter, that means you are also a member of House Potter. Your robes need to reflect that reality.

"Pipsy," Harri said firmly.

POP. "Pipsy is here, Lord Potter-Gaunt-Slytherin," she said bowing deeply.

Harri stared at her surprised. The little elf had picked up on what was going on — or had she merely been listening closely? She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

"Pipsy, please find appropriate robes from House Potter stock for Miss Parkinson."

"Pipsy is finding robes for Miss Parkinson." She stared at the girl for several moments before POPing away. Harri knew the house-elves weren't stupid, in some matters they easily out-smarted Wizards and Witches. This is one area where she was sure the House-elves had known what was happening the moment the owls left Gringotts and had started preparing accordingly. And while Harri making the twins into alliance members might have been a surprise, a good butler or maid, or in this case, the house-elves, would have guessed she was going to be adding more alliance members and prepared re-sizing robes accordingly.

Almost instantly the elf returned with robes and snapped her fingers, putting the formal Dress Robes on the girl as she sat. Made from the finest Acromantula silk, they clearly showed her rank in Wizarding society as being at the top.

"I believe there is nothing more we need to discuss, Headmaster. With your leave, we will be heading to the Great Hall for breakfast and to make a few announcements." She held her hand out to Miss Pansy. Reluctantly, with a nudge from Professor Snape, the girl got to her feet. She ignored Harri as best she could.

Harri waited until the other girl was beside her, then held out her arm for the girl to take. "We are going to do this by the numbers, as the Muggle say, Miss Parkinson," she said in a conversational tone. "Unless you wish to disgrace your House, you will act the part assigned to you by the Marriage Contract, and society's expectations."

Her tutoring lessons this summer were certainly paying off, just not in the fashion that Harri had anticipated.

Pansy recoiled in shock at the rebuke, but, scowling, took Harri's arm and they left the office as a couple. Hermione, Neville, Ron, and the twins followed. "You may not be overjoyed at the prospect, Miss Parkinson," Harri continued in the same conversational tone, "but displaying your displeasure so openly is not very Slytherin." She paused a beat. "At least try for disinterested boredom."

Pansy spent most of their breakfast alternately scowling and trying to keep her face clear of expression. In no case did she say a word. That she did not want to be seated beside Harri with Harri's entourage arrayed around them was painfully obvious. Everyone coming in the Great Hall took long looks at the group at the end of the Gryffindor table. Gasps were heard whenever someone noticed the crests now prominently placed on her robes.

Word quickly spread that something was about, and by eight-thirty the Hall was packed. Harri had long since finished eating and the group was discussing Quidditch, the only safe topic they had. She took a deep breath and looked across to the twins. "Ready?" she asked. They nodded. Neville, Ron, and Hermione all added their assents. She stepped over the bench and turned to Pansy. "Miss Parkinson?" and held out her hand. Pansy refused the courtesy, but did take her arm once standing. Seeing Harri and Pansy standing, those closest at the table started to watch them.

Harri turned and led Pansy to the front of the hall, followed by Neville, Ron, Hermione and the twins. The students fell silent as they passed until all was quiet except for some hurried whispering. She stopped in front of the Headmaster and bowed slightly, then turned to face Hogwarts' student body. Pansy stood at her side, still holding her arm in hers. Pansy was learning, her face was carefully blank. The others arranged themselves behind the two.

Harri cleared her throat. "May I have you attention, please," she said loudly.

"As many of you know, my name is Harriet Potter. What none of you know, however, is that I was born Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter."

There was quite a bit of outcry at this, but Harri managed to tell the story she had told in the Headmaster's Office. The rings on her fingers tended to shut up the skeptics.

"As to why I hid my presence and refused to acknowledge being the so-called Boy-Who-Lived? Isn't it obvious? Look at how many people were looking for me for their own advantage. Can anyone in this room truthfully say they would have acted the same towards me if they had known the truth?" She paused a moment. "I thought not.

"Be that as it may, the important points to remember now are these. First, I am Lord Potter-Gaunt-Slytherin. Second, I am an emancipated person, which means I am an _adult_. Third, an attack on me, Miss Parkinson, or any of those allied with me," she turned and waved her arm at the five behind her, "is an attack on _House Potter_ and will be dealt with accordingly in person and in the Wizengamot.

"Fourth, I do not know what the creature is that is stalking the school. Nor do I know _anything_ about the Chamber of Secrets that you all do not know as well, except the location of its entrance which I have already told to Headmaster Dumbledore." That caused quite a stir.

She stopped as something occurred to her. She turned and faced Dumbledore. "Headmaster," she said loud enough for all to hear, "in December I gave Professor Snape fresh mature mandrakes from Australia. He said that it would take only a few days to brew the potion. Why haven't Colin Creevey and Justin Finch-Fletchley been revived? You have the mandrakes, Professor Snape can brew the potion, why have you delayed?" She tilted her head questioningly at him. "What if either of them can identify the creature that petrified them or the one controlling the creature?"

She waited for his response. The stunned students and professors in the Great Hall waited for his response, as well.


	24. The Five Stages of Grief

_Note: 7/4/2016, minor editorial and misspelling corrections update._

**24\. The Five Stages of Grief**

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled, his grandfatherly aspect to the fore, as he said, "You needn't worry about that, everything is well in hand."

Professors McGonagall and Sprout were staring at him in disbelief. From the set of the Transfiguration's professor's mouth, one thin angry line, Harri suspected that no one had told her that mature mandrakes were available. Professor Snape was, as usual, a blank slate and giving away nothing of his thoughts. The other Professors were in various states of surprise, all echoing the sentiments expressed by Harri — why hadn't the Headmaster ordered Mandrake Potion given to the petrified Wizards?

Clearly, the Headmaster was not going to say anymore.

Adults. Useless, the whole lot of them.

Harri turned back to the rest of the Great Hall. "Finally," she continued, "Neither myself nor Miss Parkinson will be answering _any_ questions regarding our marriage contract. Unless either I or Miss Parkinson tell you anything regarding our Contract, consider what you hear or read to be a lie told in either ignorance or malice. Anyone spreading rumours will hear from and deal with our solicitors.

"What we are willing to tell you right now is this: A Marriage Contract between House Slytherin and House Parkinson was created in 1347. Its provisions were to be activated when one or both Houses were reduced to a single heir, and where both Houses had children of suitable genders and ages for marriage. The Contract was recently activated because of my gaining the Lordship of House Slytherin, By Right of Conquest, which made me the sole Wizard Heir of Slytherin. This Contract, due to its age, supersedes any other marriage contracts or betrothal agreements."

The Slytherin table erupted into a chaos at hearing that Harri was Lord Slytherin. A few of the smarter ones, as Harri had heard in November after her Parseltongue ability had surfaced, were wearing smug smiles — their logic had been right.

Gryffindor was just as loud and it took a cannon-blast from the Headmaster's wand to restore quiet.

"As you all know from what happened yesterday," Harri continued, "the Contract came as a complete surprise to both myself and Miss Parkinson. Any words or actions taken yesterday were done so in the passion of the moment, and we request the forgiveness of anyone who was offended. And we forgive anyone who may have said or done anything yesterday that would normally be considered slander or an attack on our Houses.

"That is all we will say on the matter."

She turned slightly to look at the twins behind her and nodded. Then did the same to Hermione, Ron, and Neville. She looked at Pansy and in a low voice said, "Come with us, there are some things we need to discuss."

She led the same group down the center of the Hall and out the doors. The students watched them leave in silence. No sooner were they past the doors then the room behind them erupted into the noise of hundreds of conversations discussing what they had just heard.

The group stopped at a small and empty classroom on the third floor. The twins did the honors in silencing the room from anyone trying to eavesdrop.

Pansy dropped Harri's arm as if it were on fire and stalked to the opposite side of the room. She silently stared out the windows.

Harri studied her carefully, like she would a new client brought to the hotel. She had become quite good at reading body-language in the hotel, it had saved her much pain being able to anticipate what the men or women expected from her. Pansy was rigid, that did not bode well.

As Neville had explained the previous night in Harri's Clubroom, pacing back and forth in front of them, "That Pansy is betrothed in a Marriage Contract to Lord Slytherin easily eclipses her parents' attempts to wed her to Malfoy House in terms of social ranking. That Lord Slytherin is also Lord Potter merely strengthens that ranking. The only House that outranks those two together is Black. Maybe." He looked up at Harri.

She gave him a wan smile, and said, waving a parchment delivered several weeks ago by a very cold tropical bird, "Sirius has made it quite clear he is totally uninterested in _any_ of the daughters of Noble or Ancient Houses. He's actually on an island somewhere, he says, and is quite enjoying the tourist and native girls', uhh, 'lack of a social agenda.'"

That made them all smile.

"I'm sure, that as soon as he hears this news he'll be right back here and demanding to know what happened. And laughing himself silly over the whole mess. We'll have to send him a letter tonight."

Neville nodded his understanding, resumed pacing, "And the Contract," he held it up, "clearly voids any agreement between the Malfoys and Parkinsons, so the Malfoys have no legal standing whatsoever.

"The fact that Lord Slytherin is a _Witch_ is merely a detail to them. To most Pure-bloods it is the _title_ that matters. And if the Goblins say that you, obviously a Witch, are a Wizard, well, then, they really can't object on the grounds that two Witches or two Wizards can't marry. If magic declares you a _Wizard_, then according to the law, you _are_ a Wizard, regardless of appearances. For all they know you could be just hiding behind a glamour or super-powerful polyjuice.

"I'm sure Pansy's parents will make it perfectly clear to her that she has to act every inch the 'Perfect Princess' with you, her betrothed. There are forces in play that Pansy, and all of us, know nothing about, and that could destroy House Parkinson if even the littlest mistake is made by her or her parents." He again stopped and looked over to Harri. "I don't think we can trust her any more now than we did before, but for your own protection you need to make it clear through your actions that you consider Pansy a part of your family. Otherwise, people will try to get at you through her, if they think you aren't paying attention. And this Marriage Contract obligates you to extend your protection to her."

He stopped and looked at Harri. And for once, she had not shred her clothes on entering the Clubhouse. That alone indicated how distracted the situation had made her.

"If the truth were to be known, I'm sure her parents will be relieved that you, as Lord Slytherin, are a Witch and unable to take advantage of the Marriage Contract by demanding your betrothal rights. Unlike what I'm sure Draco Malfoy would do."

"Wait! What?" interrupted Harri, sitting up straight on the couch.

Neville made a face as if he had something distasteful in his mouth. "Yes, in some old contracts it wasn't unusual for it to require the betrothed couple to . . . do things . . . in order to determine that both parties were capable of fulfilling the obligations of the contracts." The Wizard was blushing fiercely. "To make sure that the male could perform his duty, and that the female was capable of bearing children. In a few rare occasions the Witch was required to become . . . to bear a child . . . before the marriage could be completed. If she failed to do so before a time limit, the betrothal was canceled."

He resumed pacing. "In any case, it is now customary to allow the husband-to-be visits with his intended. Should she turn up with child, well, then, so much the better. Also, now days at least, should the Wizard take such liberties and then call off the marriage, heavy penalties are levied to compensate the Witch for her loss of . . . 'purity.' And the damage to his social position is in direct proportion to her former standing. That is, the higher up in the social strata she is, the more harm he causes himself if he cancels the marriage without a clearly justifiable reason."

Harri looked at the twins, who were both nodding solemnly.

Neville took a deep breath, "Well, anyway, as long as Pansy doesn't violate any of the Marriage Contract terms before the actual marriage, she stands to inherit Slytherin House should something happen to you. And that is a goal well worth working towards, from their point of view. They can only hope someone will eliminate you and leave _them_ near the top of the U.K. Social Ranking as their daughter inherits the title Lady Slytherin. Should you die without other wives, then Pansy would also inherit your other titles as well. And then Pansy would be free to marry someone her family considers a proper Wizard and continue both lines as the Contract requires. If things went perfectly her children could start a dynasty where she's the mother of houses Black, Potter, Gaunt, and Slytherin!

"Considering that everyone now knows that Harriet is Harry Potter, it is not inconceivable that the Death Eaters who hold a grudge against Harri for removing their leader would come after her. The Parkinson's wouldn't have to do a thing except to be patient and drop vague hints that they wish their daughter were free to choose a 'proper' spouse."

He looked at them all. "I think the only real decision here is just how much we will tell her of your secrets, if any.

"I mean, do we tell here about the Clubhouse? If we do, do we make her give us an oath to keep the secret of the Come-and-Go Room?"

Silence surrounded them for several minutes as they considered the ramifications of telling the Witch about the Clubhouse.

"I don't think we have a choice," Hermione said. "She's not stupid. With the amount of time she will be spending with you she's bound to notice you disappearing with us when we come here to study. We either tell her about the room, or we stop using it."

They all made a face of disgust at that thought, for a variety of reasons.

Hermione and the twins because the room gave them access to books and materials not in the Library.

Ron and Neville? Well, Harri was their reason — they knew that there was no way Harri would give up her naked time.

Which brought up the question of how Pansy would react to _that_!

Neville wondered if it would be possible for the room to make Pansy think Harri was dressed when she wasn't. Sort of a reverse clothes invisibility spell.

Neville resumed pacing. "And do we tell her about your other Lordships, and that you control the Hogwarts Enchantments? I think we shouldn't. She knows about Gaunt and Slytherin, let's leave it at that." He looked up. "How should we word the oath?"

That took them another hour, and more or less turned the normal etiquette rules of betrothal into an Oath. If the Witch took the oath, she would be unable to communicate to anyone not in their group about _any_ of Harri's secrets, including the Clubroom and anything that took place in there. All Harri had to do was declare something a secret, and the girl was silenced. How that would play out was up to Pansy.

And then they had started dissecting what might happen at breakfast, what they should do to prepare, and what things Harri should and should not mention when giving her speech in the Great Hall. Pipsy had been sent off to Sirius with a letter explaining what had happened that day. They expected he would return as fast as possible, but his travel arrangements could take a few days. Pipsy wouldn't be able to POP that distance with a passenger. And even delivering the message might take her a several steps.

And that brought them to this. Harri took a deep breath. "Pansy . . ."

The Witch flinched slightly, but turned to face, her face distorted with anger. "I _HATE_ you!" she screamed, her hands at her sides in tight fists. "You've _ruined_ my life! I was supposed to marry _Draco_! It was all set up years ago! He _LOVES_ me! And you! You're just a filthy Half-blood!" She stared at them, her eyes shining. Then she fell to her knees. "And he LOVES me. I know he does. And now it's all ruined. You've ruined my life," she half-whispered in despair. She buried her face in her hands, crying.

Harri was shaken to her core. Of all the reactions they had expected, _this_ one wasn't one of them. They had expected anger, because of the interference in her life. They had expected her to hate Harri, because she had already made her feelings plain that she disliked the "Muggle-born" girl. They had expected resentment over being associated to associate with Gryffindors. But that the Witch might actually _want_ to marry the obnoxious git Draco had never occurred to them. That she might have a deep down emotional connection to the Wizard that would raise up and blast their plans. That she would categorically reject the entire situation and refuse to work with them to circumvent the Contract. That she would actually work in her own worst interest.

All because of Harry Potter.

Harri stood stock still for a moment, her mind racing as she had an epiphany. _Yes, of course Pansy hated her, rejected her, and wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, that _anything_ was better than being in her company — she was, after all, just a whore. Who would want to marry her? Not even her titles as Lord Slytherin and Potter could overcome her past. As her Uncle had said repeatedly, she always had been and would always be nothing more than a whore._

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, you stupid slag?" Hermione demanded, furious. "This is _not_ Harri's fault!" She was shaking and holding her wand at her side.

The Gryffindors all stared at the infuriated Witch — Hermione had _cursed_? That . . . that was unheard of! She _never_ cursed.

_She wanted to disappear right then, to walk away from everything. But that would leave her destitute and on the streets, and she knew how that would turn out — back with the Dursleys. She needed the money in her vaults to live, and she would only have access to her vaults if she stayed in school._

"If anything it's _YOUR_ family's fault for making that stupid contract," Hermione was in full rant mode, waving her arms around wildly. "The Potter's did not make that contract, and Harri got the contract defending herself from a homicidal manic trying to kill her, so it's that _MANIAC'S_ fault the Contract went to Harri. If you want to blame someone, blame _HIM AND YOUR FAMILY_! They're the ones who made the contract and forced it on Harri and you."

Pansy was staring at Hermione, shocked at what she had heard, her face blotchy and red from crying.

_She could sneak out of Hogwarts and head to Gringotts. Once there she could take out as much of her vaults as they would let her grab and convert that to British Pounds. Stuff it all into her trunk and hightail it away._

Hermione continued, "_God!_ You're acting like a spoiled six-year-old Muggle girl told she can't have her candy!" She paused as the other Witch recoiled at what she perceived as a disgusting comparison. "No, that's not true. I've seen plenty of six-year-old girls who didn't act like this. If you're an example of Pure-blood sophistication and tact when under duress, then I must say I am _NOT_ impressed!"

"We brought you in here to see if you would meet us half-way so we could work out an arrangement that would keep the Contract and us happy while we tried to find a way around the Contract."

_Yes, that would work. Her godfather had said he had a hidden island that nobody could find. With her apartment trunk and all the gold and Pounds she could grab, she could set herself up where no one would ever find her. She would have money when she needed it. If she took a house-elf, he could do all her shopping for her. It might be lonely, but she'd never have to deal with people again if she didn't want to do that._

"Clearly, you are too much of useless witless over-emotional lump," Hermione raged on, "who thinks with her fanny — and who's going to stuff it — for that plan to work, so here's what we're going to do."

"You're going to give an oath that you will keep any secrets about Harri, her Lordships, and her Houses that you learn unless Harri gives you permission otherwise; you will not knowingly act in front of other people in any way that will reflect badly upon Harri, her Lordships, or her Houses unless Harri gives you permission otherwise; you will not knowingly act in any way that might aid her enemies in any way, shape, or form unless Harri gives you permission otherwise. That permission will be accompanied by the code phrase, 'she killed me with science,' which you cannot divulge to anyone."

_It was too late to sneak out tonight. She would have to leave a letter releasing her friends from their oaths before she left, though. Besides, she needed to check with Gringotts to see if she had an island somewhere. And what she needed to do to make sure no one ever found it, or her, unless she wanted them to._

"These things are all required in the Contract, they just aren't part of an official oath. Do you understand?" Hermione had her wand up and out, pointing at the other Witch like an accusing finger. The others had likewise drawn their wands. Harri hadn't moved a muscle. She hadn't noticed the few tears slowly making their way down her cheeks.

Pansy's expressions went from despair, to shock, to anger, and finally, when she saw the array of wands raised against her, resignation. She and Professor Snape had discussed the Contract quite thoroughly the previous night. She knew that the things mentioned in the oath Hermione was demanding were indeed mentioned in the contract, but they were not magically enforced except in the severe cases of betrayal of the Contract terms. Harri and her friends just wanted an Oath to prevent her from even minor bending of the terms.

_Why hadn't she thought of this before — just running away? Oh, yes. She had had the faintest hope that here in the magical world of Wizards and Witches she might find a degree of acceptance. Silly of her, that. Sure, she had a few friends, and she loved them all, but five friends out of all the people in the U.K.? Five out of sixty million? And she was acknowledged as one of the richest and most politically powerful? How sad was _that_?_

"We require that oath," Hermione said, "because your family and House were on Voldemort's side in the last war and we're not going to give you the chance to be the back-stabbing little slag we know you are."

Pansy stared at them. "No," she said. "You can't _force_ me to make an oath, it won't take. And I refuse to make an oath with . . . with . . . _that_ Half-blood _mongrel_." She raised her chin and looked down her nose at them.

_Well, if she was going to do it, she would need more than a week to pull everything together, she realized. The only problem was, how was she going to keep it a secret from her friends? She was sure that once they discovered her plans they would dump her fast. When they understood that she wouldn't be around for them to manipulate, they would quickly find a new friend, one who wouldn't desert them._

Hermione waited a beat. "Fine. Get out. We'll leave you alone. And when you _screw things up_ and get _killed_, Harri will be out of the contract without having to risk her life to save yours. The contract doesn't _obligate_ her to protect you, just to come to your aid should you request it. And if we see any notes demanding ransom or her presence we'll assume you went along with it in an attempt to trap her."

Pansy stared at them, wiped her face with her sleeve, then wiped her face with her hands. Still keeping a watchful eye on them she headed over to the door, sidling along one wall as far from them as she could manage. The twins removed their silencing spells when she was half-way to the door, so she wouldn't think they were about to do something to her. They all watched as she reached the door and ducked out of the room.

_She would miss her cuddling with Hermione the most. Cuddling when she had been a catgirl had been fun, Hermione had never complained about the petting and stroking, she had just let her indulge herself. Hermione had never told her to quit it or tried to prevent her from doing that when the fur disappeared. The Witch was probably just putting up with it because she was Lord Potter._

Moments later the Slytherin Witch had disappeared down the corridor, either to her first class or back to her dorm, probably the later.

"What now?" asked Ron.

Hermione pursed her lips, huffed, and stared out the door after the other Witch. "We hope she comes to her senses before it's too late. Harri has announced she's under her protection so she _should_ be safe. In the meantime, Harri follows the courting rituals as best she can. I think her being the confirmed Lord of Slytherin will get us some slack from most of the Slytherin students, but it will also incense a few of them beyond rational thought. We'll have to watch our backs." She gnawed her lower lip with her teeth. "Nobody travels alone." They nodded agreement.

Neville spoke up, "Harri, you should make her have at least one meal a day sitting with you or it will cause doubts about the Contract. And that could lead to trouble."

Harri was still staring at where Pansy had been standing. The others probably thought she was looking out the windows.

She shook herself. This was _not_ the time to break down. "Yes, of course," she said, slightly hoarse from the choking sensation in her throat. She hefted her book bag from the floor where she had dropped it. "We should head to class." She turned and quickly left the room. After exchanging puzzled looks, the other followed her into the corridor and classes.

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

At noon, to Harri's surprise, Pansy and her parents were waiting in the Entry Way to the Great Hall. The two adults were watching the students file past them, with many of the Slytherins and Pure-bloods in the other Houses giving them a polite nod of acknowledgement. Pansy was standing at their side, staring at the floor. Her hanging hair hid her face, but most could feel her embarrassment and dismay at being so obviously on display. Lady Parkinson was watching the students with a rather wistful expression, clearly remembering her days in these hallowed halls.

Headmaster Dumbledore was standing beside Lord Parkinson and exchanging a few words. Lord Parkinson kept his expression carefully blank in response to whatever the older Wizard was saying, nodding occasionally or murmuring a soft reply.

Of course! There hadn't been a letter to Pansy this morning in the parliament of owls. Harri should have realized that meant they were coming in person. They had probably met with their daughter after breakfast, and spent the morning with her laying down their expectations on her conduct and their situation. Not to mention developing strategies for how they might get rid of Lord Potter-Gaunt-Slytherin without actually betraying the contract.

The Headmaster raised an arm and beckoned her to come over as soon as he spied her group. For a moment she thought to pretend she hadn't noticed him, but realized it was too late for that, she had been staring at them too long. Sighing, she started to make her way through the throng with Hermione and Neville trailing behind her. One of the twins was standing at the doors to the Great Hall. He waved to someone inside and started towards the Headmaster and his guests as well.

Even though they were wearing their school robes, their House Crests and affiliations were on their sleeves — only the Hogwarts Crest was allowed on the breast of the school robes. Harri deliberately slowed her pace so that Fred, and a moment later, George, had time to get join them as they reached the Headmaster and his guests.

Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling, as he said, "Lord Parkinson, this is Harry Potter," waving his hand at the girl. "Harri, Lord and Lady Parkinson," he finished his half-assed introduction.

Harri frowned at him and turned to the guests. "Lord and Lady Parkinson," she said formally, bowing as an equal, "Heir Parkinson," she added, nodding at the other girl who was still steadfastly staring at the floor. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Lord Harry Potter-Gaunt-Slytherin." She turned to Neville, "This is Heir Neville Longbottom, beside him are George, Fred, and Ron Weasley." They used the deeper bow of children introduced to adults, the Weasleys deeper than Neville because he was an Heir. "And this is Miss Hermione Granger, the smartest Witch in Hogwarts." Hermione curtsied deeply while a faint pink blush suffused her cheeks.

Harri smiled at the adults. "I imagine you are here to consult about the Marriage Contracts and our options for the foreseeable future." Pansy shot a brief glare at her before returning to her study of the floor's stonework while her parents produced almost convincing fake smiles. "Yes," started Lord Parkinson.

"Excellent," interrupted Harri. She turned to the Headmaster. "Excuse me, sir, but could you have the House-elves set up the East Side Hall for a private luncheon meeting for nine so that we may discuss our Houses' business?"

"Perhaps we could adjourn to my office for that, instead?" offered the Headmaster, half-turning to lead them.

"No," interrupted Harri, again. "I don't think your office is the appropriate setting for a luncheon." She paused a moment before adding. "Nor is it appropriate for a _private_ meeting between two Noble Houses."

The Headmaster turned back to her, his eyes not twinkling nearly as much.

"If that is inconvenient for you," she continued, "We will go to Hogsmeade and rent a room at The Three Broomsticks." Which would make the Headmaster look bad for being petty. If it were only the Parkinsons, he might have done it, but with so many students watching, and especially the Weasley twins, that would be a bad political maneuver as word of his deliberate and public slight to the Dark family would spread quickly.

"No, that won't be necessary," he said, his smile a bit forced. "This way, please." He led them across the Entry Way to the East Side Hall, the same Hall that hosted the Firsties before they were conducted into the Great Hall on September First. The crowd that had gathered at the Great Hall entrance to watch the show headed to their House tables.

Only a minute later, they were in the East Side Hall where the house-elves were putting finishing touches on the oblong table surrounded by ten chairs. As they walked to the table, Harri turned to the Headmaster, "Thank you, Sir. We'll try to finish this quickly so that we don't miss any afternoon classes. If it looks like we might need more time, I'm sure the Parkinsons won't mind terribly if we schedule a second meeting for either tonight or perhaps this weekend."

Dumbledore blinked in surprise at her obvious attempt to dismiss him.

"But, Harri, as you magical guardian I need to advise you on your options with this magical contract. . . ."

"You're right, Headmaster, I do need an adult's advice!" She stopped and thought a moment.

The Headmaster, confident he had won his argument, started to head for the seat across from the Parkinsons. Finally, he would be able to steer the headstrong girl in the proper directions and get this silly Marriage Contract declared invalid.

"Pipsy!" called out Harri.

There was a long pause, then POP. The house-elf that appeared wasn't the one she expeteced. "Tibby is here, Lord Potter-Gaunt-Slytherin," the diminutive house-elf said. "Pipsy be too tired." Harri blinked a couple of times. It hadn't occurred to her that Pipsy might not have recovered, yet.

"Tibby, would you please go to Mrs. Tonks and explain that I'm having a luncheon meeting with Lord and Lady Parkinson right now regarding the Marriage Contract she received a copy of yesterday? If she can come, bring her back with you. If she has another engagement, please go to Lady Longbottom and beg her indulgence in assisting me."

"Tibby goes!"

The Headmaster stopped, more than a little miffed that she dared to reject his assistance. He looked at her. "Then why are these other here with us?"

Harri could see that the Parkinsons were equally curious.

"They have sworn affiliation with House Potter and by extension, Houses Gaunt and Slytherin. And they will be involved in securing Heir Parkinson's, my betrothed's, safety here at Hogwarts."

"Surely you don't think that Hogwarts is dangerous? Its protective enchantments are second to none and it is the safest place in Great Britain!" Dumbledore was more than a bit insulted at her implied criticism.

She stared at him, eyebrows raised in astonishment.

"After having a Troll almost kill Hermione, being attacked by a Dark Unicorn-slaying creature during a detention, and having our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor try to kill me all last year, never mind a monster wandering the corridors petrifying students this year, how can you _say_ Hogwarts is the safest place in England with a straight face? I'd be safer with the Dursleys, they've only _seriously_ tried to kill me _once_!"

The Parkinsons were looking alarmed at her question, while her friends were all nodding in agreement.

"And don't call me Shirley," Harri added.

Hermione choked slightly and gave her a dirty look.

Dumbledore, seeing the Parkinsons' expressions, hurriedly said, "I assure you everything is under control and that Hogwarts is as safe as it has ever been."

Harri snorted disbelievingly, "After last year I must say that it must not ever have been very safe! Tell me, have you caught the creature that's petrifying the students? Have you caught the person who has claimed to have opened the Chamber of Secrets and seems to be controlling it? Have you even closed off the entrance in the First Floor's Girls' Toilets to the Chamber of Secrets, yet? If you haven't done at least one of those things, then I must say it can't be very safe here!"

"Are you serious?" interrupted Pansy's father.

She barely stopped herself from saying Sirius was in Bermuda. "Yes."

"Merely the exaggerations of a child," said the Headmaster dismissively, trying to head off what he knew would be a disaster.

Hermione stared at the Headmaster disbelievingly. "I almost get killed by a Troll in the Girls' Toilets last year and you call that an exaggeration?" she said in astonishment. "I suppose the two petrified boys in the Hospital Wing are just figments of my imagination, too?"

"And I presume you will say that when I was taken prisoner by the Dark Wizard possessing Professor Quirrell last year never happened as well?" added Neville.

"I don't know about anything in the Forbidden Forest, nor about what happened to Professor Quirrell, but I do know a Troll was loose inside the Castle last year," Pansy said quietly. "And it's also true that some kind of monster petrified a Hufflepuff and Gryffindor Second-year this year and they're in the Hospital Wing."

Before more could be said, though, there was a POP and Tibby reappeared with Harri's solicitor in tow.

Dumbledore was most disappointed when Lord Parkinson stated that the discussion planned was private and involved family business only, and requested that the old Wizard leave them. As soon as the door closed behind him, Harri and Hermione began putting silencing enchantments on the walls, floor, ceiling, and doors. While doing so, Harri said, "All the portraits report anything they hear or see to the Headmaster, as do the House-elves. And we have found listening charms in many of the public rooms in the Castle where one might expect people to have private conversations." Just for added security Harri added the muffliato spell and made sure to include only the ten people present. Any house-elves or listening charms on or under the furniture would hear nothing. Hermione then casted detection charms on everyone, quickly dismissing the ones they always found on Harri, Hermione, and Ron. To their surprise they found charms, one each, on the Parkinsons as well.

Lord Parkinson was _not_ happy to realize the Headmaster had put eavesdropping charms on him and his wife.

It was a very productive meeting, from Harri's point of view.

Pansy would definitely toe the line, and her parents supervised her taking the magical vow prepared by Hermione. Considering Harri Potter's notoriety and the Headmaster's obvious attempts to control her, even Lord Parkinson had to admit formalizing the contract's House restrictions with an oath was not unreasonable.

When the adults left, they took their daughter with them. Until Lord Parkinson was positive the stories told by Harri and her friends were either exaggerations or lies, he wasn't about to risk his only child in what sounded like a very dangerous place. He also planned to consult with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

Over the next week, the Hogwarts' student body remained mostly bewildered — especially the Slytherins — slowly dividing into three main camps and several smaller ones. One group, mostly made up of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Houses with a significant number of upper Year Slytherins, took the attitude that the Goblins knew magic and law better than they did, and therefore gave Harri the deference one of her rank should receive — regardless of their individual opinions of the black-haired girl. This was the largest group by far. They were courteous and they almost never spoke directly with her. These were the students who had a firm grasp of politics and self-preservation, and the _smarter_ lower Years in the other three Houses made up the rest members.

Graduation was quickly coming for the upper Years. They didn't want to be on the wrong side Harri Potter-Gaunt-Slytherin and perhaps _not_ get that choice job they wanted because they had said or done something insulting that her friends might have noticed — and remembered. The Pure-bloods whose families had proclaimed they were politically neutral and had tried to sit out the last war were especially careful.

Her alliance with Longbottom was duly noted, and that Lord Black was her godfather was of bigger importance. If she took an interest, she could make or break a Wizard's or Witch's career with only a word or two to the right or, from their perspective, the wrong person. And, of course, with the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s for Fifth and Seventh Years coming up, those students didn't really have time to get wrapped up in the drama surrounding the black-haired girl.

Many in that group expected to make overtures to the little Witch as the year went on in the hope of advancing their careers. But for now, they quietly observed, trying to learn her character and seeking weak spots they could use to their advantage. Previously they had dismissed her as just another Second-year, albeit a famous one. But now, she was a major political player, even if she didn't recognize that truth herself.

So, if she happened to catch their eyes, they always gave her a nod of acknowledgement while maintaining a neutral expression. Sometimes they added a deferent, "Lord Slytherin."

The second main group, the smallest and at the opposite end of the spectrum from the largest, acknowledged she had taken the Lordship _By Right of Conquest_, but that the "true" Heir to Slytherin would appear and take it back at some point. Almost all of these were the children of Death Eaters and in Slytherin House. That group took the tactic of treating her neutrally as the Head of an Ancient and Noble House in public while deriding her in private — or at least when they _thought_ they were in private. Someone, or more likely several someone's, had taken to sending her school owls with updates on the antics of the second camp and the maneuverings of the first with the hope of using those missives to curry favour in the future.

The second camp didn't dare do anything, though, that the "true" Heir might take offense to when he returned. He just might decide that their failure to treat his Lordship with the proper respect do it deserved a reprimand — and they all knew his favorite punishment was the _crucio_. Claiming they were merely chastising the _pretender_ might not protect them from the Dark Lord's ire at them disrespecting his rightful title.

The third, middle, camp just pretended the whole thing was nothing they needed to be concerned with and tried to avoid thinking about her at all. These were usually students in the First through Fourth Years. The First years were all equally intimidated, except fan-boy Ginny who couldn't believe her hero was a _girl_ and Luna who was just plain strange. The Third and Fourth Years were merely wary of her.

This middle group was comprised primarily of those not yet concerned with what jobs they might seek after graduation. For those not in her Year, it was fairly easy to do. If they did meet her, they just maneuvered a bit so that another student was between them, giving them plausible deniability that they hadn't noticed her. It was amusing to watch a group of Slytherins maneuvering so that the lowest in House status were the ones closest to Harri. It was like watching a school of small fish trying to avoid the notice of a larger predator.

Of course, there were several small groups, no more than a ten members each, stuck between those positions. A dozen or so students from all houses began to hang around her whenever possible, regardless of their actual Year — which she found rather creepy. They were attempting to sneak into her confidence or to use her presence to scare off others who might prey upon them — or had been abusing them — as a result of their lowly status in the social rankings at Hogwarts.

It was kind of like seeing the five stages of grief acted out all at once across Hogwarts' students: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

The immediate effect of this was that most Slytherins ceased any and all antagonistic actions against the Gryffindors — except a small number who were deeply outraged that a _Gryffindor_ was the legal, acknowledged Lord Slytherin! Draco Malfoy was one of those, with his pets Crabbe and Goyle following along blindly. If it weren't for the fact that she thought he hadn't yet hit puberty she would have thought the three of them were in a ménage a trois — they were his boyfriends despite his previous betrothal to Pansy's.

Oddly enough, it was the Gryffindors that gave Harri the most grief. There was a large block of them through all the Years that simply couldn't wrap their heads around the fact that just because Harri had won her title by conquest didn't automatically mean she was evil. They seemed to live in a black-and-white world. _All Slytherins are evil, Harri is Lord Slytherin, therefore Harri is evil_. How they managed to square that with _House Potter is good, Harri is Lord Potter, therefore Harri is good_ and _All Gryffindors are good, Harri is a Gryffindor, therefore Harri is good_ was something she didn't understand.

_The Daily Prophet_ had a field day, every day for a week. First, when the Goblins were questioned by a reporter they pointed out — just before pitching the Wizard down the bank's steps — that if their heritage tests were flawed — which they weren't — it meant the heredity and inheritance of _every_ Noble and Ancient House would be called into question.

All the Pure-blood Houses — perhaps for the first time ever — _quickly_ fell into line supporting the Goblins' spellwork, and declaring that Harriet Potter was Lord Potter, Lord Gaunt, and Lord Slytherin, her physical appearance be damned!

Next, _The Daily Prophet_ blasted Headmaster Dumbledore for failing to inform Lord Potter of her Heritage, and for failing to train her properly in her position. That the Heir to House Potter arrived at Hogwarts without any idea of Wizarding customs, traditions, and expectations was a major scandal. The brouhaha over her Owl Mail was rehashed, in harsher tones, as another failure of judgement. And his negligence in regards to Lord Sirius Black was brought up, yet again.

Somehow, a reporter managed to get the details on the Troll and Unicorn incidents from the previous year — Harri suspected Lord Parkinson had a hand in that — and that became another nail in the coffin for the Headmaster's public reputation. Thank god they somehow missed Hagrid's dragon egg stramash so at least _he_ was safe from being dragged through the mud along with Dumbledore. Although it could just as easily be that word of her friendship with the half-giant insulated him from the attacks on the Headmaster. She thanked god no one had investigated just how "close" she was to the giant.

When the missing Quirrell situation was investigated, the story came out that he had died in an attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone and put Lord Potter in the Hospital Wing for several days. _Very_ unkind things were said about Dumbledore's suitability as a Headmaster. Notably, Lord Parkinson led the attack on the Headmaster and decrying his apparent disregard for the safety of the students. After all, how can you say you have the students' best interests in mind while storing in the school something you know every Dark Wizard in the world wants? And know that _each_ of those Dark Wizards wouldn't hesitate to blast their way through _any_ students they might meet?

And then the story about the Chamber of Secrets hit the public. Up to this point, none of the published stories regarding the school had come as a surprise to the Hogwarts' Board of Governors — that was why the Headmaster had been given a warning at the start of the school year. A few of them were quite pleased in the public drubbing the Headmaster was getting, though. Lord Malfoy was in a joyful mood at the Headmaster's predicament. It would take quite some time for Dumbledore to restore his reputation — and it might never recover to the levels it had been before.

However, finding that two students had been petrified and that the Headmaster could have cured Colin Creevey and Justin Finch-Fletchley _two months previously_ but had deliberately avoided doing so, was the final nail the Board. They had _not_ been amused. That he had so blithely ignored the warning they had given him in Summer regarding compromising the safety of the students incensed them. That the Headmaster knew of the Chamber of Secret's entrance and hadn't tried to break through it nor to block it off from the rest of the school merely made their decision that much quicker. And even if the evidence that Myrtle's toilets were the entrance wasn't the best, sealing off a disused room was hardly a hardship! Especially if it had the potential to protect the students.

By Wednesday noon Dumbledore was no longer Headmaster. The students were amazed. Malfoy was delighted — it hadn't taken _any_ bribery on his part!

Professor McGonagall was promoted to temporary Headmaster for the rest of the term. She had two Seventh-year students take over teaching the First and Second-year students to give her the extra time she needed. And sealed the door to the First Floor Witches Toilets by removing it and making it a solid stone wall. Myrtle was uncertain if she should be happy that no one would ever bother her again, or unhappy that the room was sealed away. By supper it was all done.

To the delight of Harri and her friends, Hagrid was reinstated as a proper Wizard. As the so-called villain at the previous opening of the Chamber of Secrets, Hagrid had been hauled in by the Aurors and questioned under veritaserum about this year's incidents. They had quickly discovered how he had been unfairly accused and that his pet Acromantula, Aragog, _couldn't_ have been responsible for the Myrtle's death. This became another black mark against Hogwarts, and by extension, Dumbledore.

Although Dumbledore wasn't directly involved in Hagrid's expulsion, the reporters — primarily Rita Skeeter — concluded that because he was on the school's staff that that marked the beginning of the school's decline. She actually dug into the school records and showed how the number of Potion's graduates coming from the school had fallen by almost two-thirds since the dismissal of Professor Slughorn. And asked why things such as Alchemy, Sympathetic, and Gemstone Magic were removed from the curriculum while he was Headmaster.

The various professors, with the exception of Snape, promised to assist Hagrid over the summer in passing his OWLs. In the meantime, the professors took turns, one each night for an hour, reviewing what he remembered from his classes. His extensive knowledge of magical beasts and their care gave him a N.E.W.T. almost immediately, and he was recognized as the foremost authority in Great Britain on that subject by the Ministry soon afterwards.

The Slytherins tried to keep Malfoy and his few followers under control. If the Dark Lord didn't return, then they didn't want to burn any bridges they might need in the future. If he did return, they didn't want to have done anything that would make it more difficult for him to succeed. That, and only a complete _idiot_ annoys the richest and most powerful House in the United Kingdom, Sirius Black, without a bloody _good_ reason. But at first they weren't very successful. Malfoy, after all, thought his father the richest in the country and couldn't countenance the thought that that might not be true. So, why should he care about Sirius' influence? His father, as he frequently stated, would take care of things for him.

The First-years just took it in stride and didn't know what had changed. The second years were truly conflicted. Draco, with Goyle and Crabbe, didn't seem to understand that tangling with Harri had the potential to cause far more damage than gain. And while Draco understood all about manners and social standing, he couldn't quite make the leap of logic that insulting the godson/daughter of Lord Sirius Black was a very bad idea. Of course, losing his potential marriage to Pansy, whom he regarded as his personal property, probably had something to do with that.

"What a joke," came the snooty voice of Draco from behind as Harri and company headed in to the Great Hall for supper that Wednesday. "The Boy Who Lived is actually a _girl_!

Harri stopped and turned. "Yes. Isn't it amusing that a tiny baby girl just fifteen months old killed the Dark Wizard that everyone said could not be beat. I guess he wasn't that big a deal, was he?" She wasn't going to mention he was a wraith, trapped between life and death. "Careful, Malfoy, she added tauntingly. "If I could vanquish a full-grown powerful Wizard when I was just a little girl, and again last year as a Firstie, I just might squash you like a bug if you annoy me enough."

Malfoy's face darkened in anger. "You're lying!"

She smiled. "Oh, so not _only_ are you reckless in annoying someone far more powerful than yourself, you're also _delusional_ and denying things that everyone else knows to be true." She knew it was her mother's protection that had saved her both times, but he didn't. And she wasn't above playing that to her advantage.

Malfoy's face started turning the same colour of purple she used to see on her Uncle Vernon. She didn't take her eyes of his but kept his right hand in her peripheral vision in case he started to draw his wand. Fate intervened.

"Is there a problem?" intoned the deeper voice of a Seventh Year. It was a Slytherin Prefect, a Seventh Year she didn't know. Malfoy stiffened and the purple faded from his face.

"Nothing, sir," said Harri politely. Ron and Hermione beside her smiled and nodded agreement. "Mr. Malfoy was merely noting that, yes, indeed, I _am_ a girl. He apparently only just discovered that fact. He's a little slow that way."

Ron snickered. Crabbe frowned, as if unsure what was happening. Goyle, she was surprised to note, was barely suppressing a smile.

"Come with me," said the Prefect, putting his hand on Malfoy's shoulder and shepherding him towards the upper year end of the Slytherin table, Crabbe and Goyle following in their wake like ducklings following their mother.

"_My father . . ._ ," she heard Malfoy start, only to be interrupted by the older student, "**_Shut_** **_up_**, Mr. Malfoy!"

X – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – X

That night, after everyone else had gone to sleep, Harri decided to give up on the diary. Nothing they had tried had yielded any sort of result in revealing what was in it. She might as well put it to the use it had been intended. Harri slipped out of Hermione's bed and returned to her own. She sat cross-legged, the diary open in front of her, and wrote, _Harriet Potter_, followed by the date.

She paused and considered how to start the next sentence. When she looked down, what she had written was gone and instead was written, _Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?_

An hour later, she sat stunned on her bed. Hagrid had told them all about his experience at the Ministry, so she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Hagrid had had nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets, as Tom had implied in the memory he showed her. She knew where the entrance to the Chamber was, and it was nowhere near where Tom Riddle claimed it to be. The thing that came charging out of that box of Hagrid's had been a spider. Spiders had fangs to bite with, she had certainly been bit enough times while gardening to know that fact. And Moaning Myrtle did not say she was bitten, she said she saw great big yellow eyes staring at her. And spiders have _eight_ eyes, not two.

Tom was lying, presenting the information in such a way as to make it look like something it wasn't. She had enough experience with the salespeople at Grunnings to recognize that tactic. They frequently used it to tell their wives on the phone that they were in special tag-team training meetings at the hotel with their colleagues, comparing techniques, or schmoozing with clients private rooms. A few even went so far as to say, "And I promise you that there aren't any women here who aren't my co-workers or their relatives." That they were training an underage girl how to shag two or three men at the same time wasn't mentioned. Nor that their tag-team training meant more than one using her and not two or three salespeople talking in turn to a recalcitrant client. Or that the schmoozing meant making sure she kept their client happy by being as compliant as possible. Oh, yes, she had heard plenty of examples in misdirection using completely truthful statements.

Tom clearly knew the truth of the matter of the Chamber of Secrets and was using his knowledge to shift the blame to another.

That left the problem of just what the bloody hell this diary was. She had never heard of anything like this. The enchanted mirrors and portraits at the castle could hold conversations with you, but to be able to pull you in and share a memory? And neither the mirrors nor the portraits gave her the feeling that she just had to write in the diary. There was a compulsion spell of some kind on the diary. And it appeared indestructible. And the indestructible part made her think of the locket that Kreacher had tried in vain to destroy for a decade. Could this be similar — a Soul Anchor? If so, this made three of them! Good grief, it was like the whole Wizarding world was littered with the damn things.

Her friends were appalled at the story she told them at breakfast next morning, but what could they do? The useless adults were being useless. Or they had an agenda that didn't include keeping their students safe and alive! Except maybe Headmistress McGonagall. She had been a great help at first last year, until the very end when she had ignored their warning about the Stone. This year she had been mostly neutral. Could they chance taking the diary to her? She _had_ closed off the Myrtle's toilets, and announced that the use of the term "mud-blood" or "blood-traitor" was an automatic 5-point deduction. The Slytherin House had quickly discovered, after losing fifty points late yesterday afternoon and early evening, that this wasn't restricted to the hearing range of staff but included all portraits, statues, and suited-armours, including those in their common room. They were _not_ happy.

But would McGonagall take them seriously? Serious? Sirius! Perhaps he would have an idea! Borrowing a parchment from Hermione, Harri quickly wrote a message to her godfather explaining what she had found and what she has concluded. As a postscript she added that Dumbles had been booted out and replaced by McGonagall. With any luck the letter would reach him just as he arrived at Grimmauld place.

Before she could head off to the owlery though, she saw the Parkinsons enter the Great Hall. She stood as they came over to her.

"Lord Potter-Gaunt-Slytherin," said Pansy's father, formally, "I place my daughter in your care." He bowed slightly as Pansy curtsied.

"Thank you, Lord Parkinson," replied Harri, also formal, "I shall regard your daughter as the treasure she is." Harri bowed to the Wizard.

"My Lady," Harri turned to Pansy, "Have you broken your fast, yet?"

"Yes, My Lord," she said quietly.

"Heir Longbottom," Harri turned to Neville. "Would you escort Heir Parkinson to her House so that she may retrieve her school supplies for the day?" Harri held up the folded parchment. "I must send this off post-haste." She turned back to Pansy. "I shall meet you outside your House to escort you to your first class of the day." Harri turned and bowed again to the Parkinsons, "Excuse me, Lord, Lady, but I must hurry off if I am not to be late to my class." She turned and quickly walked out of the great Hall, Hermione at her heels. If they hurried, they could make it to the owlery, send the letter, retrieve and escort Pansy to her first class, and just barely make it to their own class.


End file.
